


Coming Back to You

by bottseveryflavorbeans



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: An obsessive amount of hand holding and hand touching, Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Break Up, Canon Divergence - Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Canon Related, Canon Universe, Cheating Harry, Confessions, Crying, Dating, Draco Malfoy on Parole after the war, Drama, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Falling In Love, Feelings, Fireplaces should be considered a character because I mention them so much, First Kiss, Flashbacks, Flirting, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Can Sing, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Harry has a lot of apologies to make, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Inspired by Gilmore Girls, Karaoke, Kissing, Loss, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Making Out, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, POV Harry Potter, Pain, Past Relationship(s), Plot, Post canon, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Potions Master Draco Malfoy, Quidditch Player Ginny Weasley, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Build, Smut, Stag Nights & Bachelor Parties, Wedding Planning, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bottseveryflavorbeans/pseuds/bottseveryflavorbeans
Summary: Harry Potter is a mess. He drinks too much. He feels like he is just going through the motions of life. He is training to become an Auror, just like he always planned. He is with Ginny, just like everyone always expected.He should be happy, right? Or at least, he should be happy-ish.And he thinks he is, until he attends Neville and Luna’s party and sees his ex-boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, who needs a favor: a character letter for his Probation Hearing to see if his parole can be lifted. And who knew him better than Harry?It’s such a small favor, after all, how can Harry say no?Writing the letter brings up some old memories, and Harry starts to see his mistakes from the past, as well as the present, and it all brings him back to Draco Malfoy.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Luna Lovegood
Comments: 46
Kudos: 253





	1. Now

**Author's Note:**

> This fic alternates between the present and the past. Each chapter will only deal with one timeline and will be labeled as such.
> 
> I am going to try and post two chapters at a time until the end. One from the present and one from the past.
> 
> Also the whole character letter is totally inspired by Gilmore Girls because it is just so full of angst, ugh! Plus, it felt so perfect for Draco and Harry.

At some point Harry was going to have to stop pacing and go inside. He knew that, but it didn’t stop him. The soft, idyllic piano music whispered through the garden from the greenhouse where the idle chatter of his friends felt more like a warning than a welcome. 

“Get it together, Harry,” he mumbled to himself. He stopped pacing and turned toward the greenhouse. The windows were covered in condensation thanks to the utter cold of December meeting with the summer-like conditions inside the greenhouse. However, despite the fogged windows, Harry managed to catch a glimpse of white-blonde hair and felt his stomach sink. 

The door to the greenhouse swung open and Harry smelled the perfume of the blooming flowers, and for a moment, it felt like springtime. He looked to see who had decided to brave the cold, and was greeted by the soft smile of the man of the hour, Neville Longbottom. “Harry, mate, thought that was you. What are you doing out here pacing like a madman? It’s beyond freezing.”

Harry tugged his coat tighter around his torso. “Just needed a minute. Had a hard day at work. Didn’t want to carry it in with me.” He shrugged for good measure. If he was honest, everyday as an Auror was a hard day, but Neville didn’t need to know that. 

Neville nodded. “Well, do you think you’re ready to join us? Luna and I are going to announce who our best people are going to be, and you don’t want to miss it.” He winked at Harry playfully. It was honestly very cute that Neville didn’t know that Harry knew he was going to ask him to be his best man. He’d told Ron, for Merlin’s sake, and everyone knows Ron can’t keep gossip like that to himself. Harry had known for a week now that Neville planned to ask him since Harry played a part in getting him and Luna together eighth year. 

Harry smiled at his friend, feeling immeasurable happiness for Neville and Luna. Two of his dearest friends had found love, and he was happy to be there to celebrate with them. Their engagement was short compared to the usual standards, and the planning almost as quick, but Harry supposed...when you know, you know. Or at least that’s what people keep telling him.

The only downside was one of Luna’s dearest friends happened to be Harry’s ex, Draco Malfoy, whom he hadn’t properly talked to since the end of eighth year. They were amicable enough when they passed one another at the Ministry, but outside of pleasantries, they’d hardly spoken over the last year, and certainly they’d avoided being at the same functions as often as possible. Neville and Luna’s party, however, wasn’t a charity function that he could donate a large amount of money to in lieu of attending. 

Neville, who didn’t have on a proper coat, hugged his middle, and said, “Earth to Harry?”

“Sorry, don’t know where I went.” Harry tried for a smile, but even he knew it looked more like a grimace. “Is Gin here yet?”

Neville nodded. “She’s currently being cornered by Hermione. Apparently she wants all the teams in the league to sign some sportsman conduct agreement and thinks Gin is her ticket in. I’d save her before Hermione gets hexed.”

Harry laughed. “That’s our Hermione. Can’t drop a cause even on her day off.”

Neville returned the laugh, and held the door to the greenhouse open. “Come on then, Harry.” 

Harry swallowed his anxiety, and plastered his best ‘everything is fine’ smile on and followed Neville inside. The greenhouse was one of Neville’s own designs. He’d worked on it the better part of the last year, and it had come together nicely. It had the shape of a barn with a vaulted ceiling, and a loft at the back wall where it looked like Neville kept the more complicated plants like the Mandrakes, so they were out of reach. The rest of the ground floor was like stepping into a magical garden. He half expected to see a Sprite’s glittering wings float up from the exotic looking flowers that hung like vines on the wooden beams. There were bewitched candles on the long linen covered tables that held the finger foods and beverages. All in all, it looked like a dream. 

“Wow, Nev, this place is amazing,” Harry said when the door closed behind him, sealing him inside whether he liked it or not. 

“Thanks, took forever, but I think it’s nearly done.” He looked at his handiwork appreciatively, then his eyes found Luna. She wore a flowing forget-me-not blue sundress and no shoes. She beckoned Neville over with a crooked index finger. He smiled at her and then turned to Harry. “Be back, the woman of my dreams needs me for a moment.”

Harry patted Neville on the back. “Tell her I said she looks lovely.”

Neville nodded his agreement and headed over to Luna, practically gliding all the way there. Harry felt a surge of guilt hit him as he thought about how he never felt that excited to see Ginny. It should be like that, shouldn’t it?

With Neville gone, Harry didn’t have a buffer, or an excuse to stand at the entrance of the greenhouse, so he moved in further, picking up a glass of what smelled like lemonade but definitely tasted like alcohol. He sipped at it leisurely as he scanned the greenhouse. Most everyone that was there he knew either from school or work. There were some faces he didn’t recognize and he assumed they were people Luna met on her travels for the Quibbler. She collected friends the way other people collected sports memorabilia. 

He spotted Ginny in the back near one of the linen covered tables. She had a champagne flute in one hand, and her other on her hip. Hermione stood in front of her, talking animatedly, waving her hands as she made her point. Harry could almost imagine how the conversation was going. He’d heard enough of Hermione’s “it’s for a good cause” speeches that he could recite them word for word. Ginny spotted him staring and smiled at him over Hermione’s shoulder. She tilted her head at him as if to say “gotta love her, but sweet Merlin it’s a party.” Harry chuckled at the gesture and she stifled a laugh. Hermione seemed none-the-wiser. 

Harry was about to head over and save Hermione from getting hexed when someone’s hand touched his elbow. He turned slowly, first looking down at the pale hand and slender fingers, then his eyes trailed up past the pale expanse of neck, angular jawline, and settled on the smoke-gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. 

There was no way to avoid being taken in by Draco’s appearance. No matter what he wore, he wore it with this easy confidence that radiated from him like a sunbeam. This outfit was no different. He wore a tailored gray suit the color of his eyes, with a white button up under his coat. He left the last few buttons undone, revealing the pale dip of his collar bone. His white-blonde hair was swept back, a few strands artfully falling around his face. 

“Harry, how are you?” Draco asked, letting his hand drop to his side. He clenched and unclenched his fist a few times before putting his hand casually into the pocket of his gray trousers. 

Harry swallowed his first response which would have gone something like “I was hoping to avoid you” and instead went with, “Fine, good. And how have you been? How’s working at the apothecary going?”

Draco smiled, but it didn’t quite touch his eyes. “Slow going, but good. Really good. Magnus lets me have pretty much free reign of the place now. I’m learning a lot.”

“Wonderful. Really, I’m glad it’s working out.”

Draco smiled again, this time it seemed forced and completely for Harry’s benefit. “This is terribly awkward, but I actually have something to ask you.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to hear my generic ‘works fine’ routine that I pull out for all the parties.” Harry smiled, matching Draco’s forced smile with one of his own. “What’s up, Draco?”

Licking his lips, Draco looked over his shoulder, and then back at Harry. “Well, the Probationary Board is reviewing my case, and my lawyer said if I had a character reference it could go a long way to showing them I’m ready to be let off probation, and well, I thought of you.” He paused long enough to let it sink in, and then took up rambling. “I know it’s terribly awkward and out of the blue. I would completely understand if it’s not something you want to do, or even have the time for. I know your schedule is busy. It’s just, when I think of someone who knows me, the real me, well, outside of my mother, who my lawyer said I _should not_ ask,” Draco said with a low chuckle, “well, there’s you.”

Harry felt a lump forming in his throat. Of all the things he expected Draco to ask him, he was unprepared for that. He felt his face get warm, and knew he must look like someone who had the rug pulled from under them. 

He didn’t get a chance to respond before Draco was shaking his head and saying, “It’s totally fine, no need to say anything. It was a long shot. Thank you for hearing me out, Harry. It was great seeing you.” 

Draco was half-turned away when Harry’s hand, much to Harry’s own surprise, was around Draco’s wrist, pulling Draco back to face him. “Of course, I’ll write the letter. When is it due?”

There was a moment of pure shock on Draco’s face before he schooled his expression and cleared his throat. “A week from Monday. I know it’s short notice.”

“It’s okay. I have the time.”

Draco smiled, and this time it did reach his eyes. “Thank you, Harry. You have no idea how much this will help.”

“I’m happy to do it. You’ve done two years of probation. You deserve to be released. I’ll write the letter and send it to...your lawyer?”

“Yes, I’ll owl you his info tomorrow morning.”

“Sounds good, Draco.”

“Well, I better stop monopolizing the _Golden Boy_ before I get a Bat-Bogey Hex tossed my way.” He nodded over Harry’s shoulder to where Ginny and Hermione stood. Ginny was watching them carefully. She didn’t look happy at all. 

“Yeah, probably best,” Harry agreed and released Draco’s wrist. He stood there a moment, processing what Draco had asked him before he made his way over to Ginny and Hermione.

When Harry approached them, he heard the end of Hermione’s argument about sportsman-like conduct improving the overall experience of Quidditch. Ginny was rolling her eyes, but before she could say anything, Hermione spotted Harry. She whirled on him, hugging him before he had a chance to say hi. Her wild, curly hair was loose and hung around her face today and he got a mouthful of it before she released him. 

“Harry, where have you been hiding?” she asked. “Ron’s going to be late. Some disaster at the lab. Apparently George tried to create...some weird thing, and it backfired horribly. Ron said George lost an eyebrow and Lee laughed for a full ten minutes before helping him grow it back. Ghastly. Anyway, how was work? Training going well?”

Harry smiled at Hermione. She was intense, always had been, but he loved her for it. You never had to guess with Hermione where you stood. She’d tell you. “Work was fine. Hard case today. Involved a kid.”

Hermione winced and cupped his face with her hand. “Those are hard. Do you need to talk about it?”

Harry placed a hand over Hermione’s and pulled her hand away from his face. “I’m okay, ‘Mione. I’d like to say hello to my girlfriend, who has just gotten back from a month of playing away games all over Europe, if it’s all the same to you.” He winked at her, and she laughed. 

“Sorry, sorry. You know me. I get going and,...there I go again,” she stopped, looking at Ginny’s empty glass and Harry’s half empty one. “I’ll grab us all new drinks. We all know Ginny needs another one after having to listen to me ramble for the last half hour.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry said.

“Hermione, that’s not true,” Ginny said, her tone a bit exasperated. 

Hermione waved her off. “Hey, you didn’t walk away. That’s more than most people do.” Then she headed for one of the tables, leaving Harry and Ginny alone. 

“Hi,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around the small of Ginny’s back and bringing her body close to his. 

“Hi,” she echoed, leaning in to lay a soft kiss on his lips. She smelled nice, not flowery like the rest of the greenhouse, but like oranges and a summer breeze. Harry took comfort in the familiarity. 

When she released him from the kiss, she said, “What did he want?’

Harry sighed, pulling back from Ginny enough that he could look her in the eye. “Nothing, just catching up.” The lie came out before he could even think about why he was lying. It was just a character letter, so why lie? 

Ginny’s lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed. “I don’t like him. I don’t like you being near him, not after that night when I found you guys on the couch. I don’t trust him.” 

_Oh, yeah, that’s why_ , Harry thought. Anytime Draco was brought up, he and Ginny fought. She would always say the same things, and Harry would always defend Draco. They’d been having the same conversation since the day they got back together a year ago. 

“Gin, not here, yeah? Nev and Luna are celebrating. We can have it out about Draco later if you really want.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Fine.” Then she plastered a fake smile on her face and took a long swig of her champagne when Hermione arrived back with their drinks. 

Hermione was about to ask a question, no doubt about what was wrong, but just then Neville’s voice, via Sonorus charm, echoed throughout the greenhouse. “Everyone, can I get your attention?”

The chatter suddenly died down, and the group collectively turned to face Neville and Luna who stood, arm in arm, at the front of the greenhouse. They both held a glass of champagne in their hands. 

“Thank you,” Neville said when everyone was paying attention. “We are so happy you all could make it out to celebrate with us.” Neville paused and there were a few hoots and hollers from the small crowd. Harry spotted Dean and Seamus, both of whom were cupping their mouths. Neville laughed and continued, “This has been a year full of growth and happiness, and the icing on the cake was when Luna agreed to marry me. We are both so unbelievably in love.”

Someone shouted, “Here, here.” And then the rest of the group joined in. There were sounds of clinking glasses, followed by a murmured chorus of cheers. 

“That being said,” Luna picked up for Neville. Her voice was as sing-songy as ever, but now with a hint of mature wisdom to it. “We would like to announce our wedding party choices.” 

There was another whoop of cheers from the crowd. Luna held a finger to her lips to shush them. “We have gone a bit unconventional.”

“But that seemed fitting, considering our whole relationship,” Neville added. 

Luna smiled at him, and said, “That’s true.”

“My best man is going to be none other than the man who gave me the nudge of confidence I needed to finally ask this lovely creature next to me out. Without him, I’d likely have pined away until I was an old man.”

Luna laughed lightly, tilting her head down to rest in the crook of Neville’s neck. “I would have asked you out before that could have happened.”

“Probably, but this man, one of my closest friends, gave me the push I needed.” Neville paused a moment, searching the crowd until his eyes landed on Harry, then raised his glass and said, “Harry Potter, the man, the myth, the legend, would you do me the honor of being my best man?”

The crowd collectively snapped their heads around to look at Harry, who felt suddenly like he had shown up to Potions naked. He gulped down his nerves and said, “Course, mate!” Then titled his glass toward Neville. 

“That’s settled then,” Neville said, turning to Luna. 

She smiled and said, “I’d like to ask someone who comforted me through one of the darkest times in my life, someone who never gave up on me even when it cost him dearly to do so,” she paused and Harry couldn’t believe what was about to happen. He felt Ginny tense next to him, clearly she saw where this was going as well. “Draco Malfoy, would you do me the great honor of being my man of honor?”

The crowd turned to see Draco, lemon tart halfway to his mouth. He smiled and placed the desert on the plate he held. “Of course, Luna, I’d be glad to.”

She smiled and then started rambling off the rest of their wedding party. Ron, Seamus, and Dean were the other groomsmen. Ginny, Hermione, and one of the people Harry didn’t recognize called Illyana were the bridesmaids. There was a great amount of chatter after the announcements, but Harry tuned most of it out. 

He was going to have to stand opposite Draco during the wedding ceremony. And he was also going to have to do it with Ginny there, staring. He’d been in worse situations, he told himself. How bad could this be compared to Voldemort? He just had to write a character letter for his ex-boyfriend, which would bring up all sorts of feelings he’d been ignoring since their break-up, and be the best man to Draco’s best man of honor. No biggie. 


	2. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves, this is a break-up scene. Big Emotions Ahead.

It had been more than a week since Harry asked Draco if he saw them ever being in a real relationship, one that they could tell people about, one where they could go on dates and hold hands in public. Harry was worried that things would never change between them, or maybe he was worried they would change too much if they didn’t have something official in place before they left school.

Draco had asked for some time, and Harry figured that meant a day, maybe two, so Harry gave him space. He knew Draco by now, knew he needed time to process things, but then days turned into a week and school was ending soon. Exams started tomorrow and a worrying, sinking feeling that Draco was going to leave him ate away at him. 

When that thought occurred to him, when he realized Draco was going to say no, Harry avoided Draco whenever possible and tried to think of a way to fix it, to solve it. He stayed out late practicing on the Quidditch pitch, he skipped meals, and ran off after class, all to delay the inevitable conversation. Draco was going to end things, he was going to leave Harry. And Harry couldn’t...wouldn’t let that happen. So he needed a plan first.

The wind picked up, whipping Harry’s hair around his face as he spiraled down and down on his broom, pulling up at the last moment into a Wronski Feint. The sun had set an hour ago, so that meant Draco was likely settling in for bed. It would be safe to head back to the eighth year common room. Harry took one more lap around the pitch, then made his way to the ground. The adrenaline of flying normally cleared his mind, calmed him, but the gnawing sensation in his gut was still there. It felt like he was still falling, but unable to pull up before he hit the ground. 

A warm tear slid down Harry’s cheek. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, feeling embarrassed even though there was no one around to witness his pathetic display. He gathered up his things off the pitch, tucking his broom under one arm and made his way back to the castle. 

__

The walk back to the dorms was uneventful, even without his invisibility cloak. No one passed him in the halls, not even a portrait gave him more than a passing glance. Clearly they were used to seeing him out of bed after hours. The novelty had probably worn off somewhere around fourth year. 

When he reached the newly built West Tower and the portrait of Sir Hilliard the Bard, who apparently sang his way to victory against a hoard of mountain trolls, Harry sang the password. Yes, sang it because Sir Hilliard would not accept a spoken word. At least it wasn’t a hard note to reach. 

“Back late, Mr Potter,” Sir Hilliard noted when Harry sang the password. 

“You know me,” Harry answered. 

Sir Hilliard gave him a withering stare that would have looked more at home on McGonagall’s face, and then said, “A great many late nights. Something amiss?”

Harry forced a smile. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

That seemed to make Sir Hilliard happy. He straightened his armor and nodded at Harry. “Good to hear, Mr Potter. Rest easy.” With that, the portrait swung in on itself, giving Harry access to the eighth year common room. 

There were no candles lit, but the fire in the hearth was still burning. It crackled as a log gave way to the flames, sending little orange sparks up into the chimney. Harry set his things down near the couch facing the hearth and moved around it, so he could take up his other avoidance tactic: watching the fire turn to embers, so he could avoid going to his room where Ron would no doubt be awake and full of questions that Harry didn’t want to answer. 

Except there was someone on the couch. Harry stopped mid-step. A lump of a person, curled up under a throw blanket, lay there. The only visible part of their body was the white-blonde strands of hair sticking out from under the blanket. Harry felt his heart pound in his chest at the sight. He started to back away as quietly as possible, but tripped over his Quidditch gear, fell backward, and whispered, “ _Fuck_ ” as he hit the ground. 

Harry held his breath, sprawled out on the ground. There was no stirring from the couch, so he sighed out the breath he was holding and stood up. He took one more look at the couch, and then turned to head for the stairs to his dorm, but it was too late. 

“Harry?” Draco whispered, his voice groggy from sleep. “Where have you been?”

“Quidditch pitch,” Harry answered. “Headed for bed.” He moved toward the couch and placed a kiss on Draco’s forehead, hoping to get away before Draco fully woke up and wanted to talk. But luck was not on his side.

Draco grabbed Harry’s wrist and tugged him back toward the couch. “I’ve been trying to catch you all week, Harry. For Merlin’s sake, what have you been up to? And don’t say studying for exams. I’m not Granger, I won’t believe it.”

Harry felt his breath quicken. If they were going to have this conversation, then he was going to say all the things he’d been playing over and over in his mind all week. It was now or never, so he answered, “That doesn’t matter right now.”

“Doesn’t matter?” Draco asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone. He was obviously awake now and pulling the blanket off. He stood up, walked around the couch to stand face to face with Harry. “What do you mean it doesn’t matter. Of course, it matters. I’ve left you notes. I‘ve run after you in between classes. Hell, I even stayed up playing chess with Ron until eleven last night hoping to catch a glimpse of you before bed.”

Harry smiled at that. He knew Draco hated playing chess with Ron because he was the only person Draco couldn’t beat. He grabbed Draco’s slender hands in his and brought them to his chest. Harry took in one deep breath, and said, “Move in with me, Draco. After school.”

“What?” Draco stammered, pulled back a little, but not removing his hands from Harry’s grip. “What do you mean? Everyone will know for sure that we’re together and we haven’t decided anything about that yet.”

“Come on, Draco, say you will. Let’s do it.”

“Move in together?” Draco asked, a bitter laugh escaping him. “Tell everyone that their hero is dating a villain?”

Harry scoffed. “You’re not a villain, Draco. Stop that. You said you loved me, remember? You said it that night in the Astronomy Tower, so why not?”

“I do love you, Harry,” Draco whispered. He leaned forward so their foreheads were pressed together. 

“So then move in with me.” Harry tilted his head up, brushing his lips against Draco’s, tasting him. The kiss was passionate, and made Harry’s body tingle with pleasure. He pulled back, breathless, before he let himself get distracted. “I know you were saying you didn’t know what your life was going to look like after school with the probation and everything, and that you don’t want to burden me, or slow me down, or whatever…but I don’t care. That’s all nothing compared to how I feel about you. I told you, I see you in my future. Move in with me. Say you will.”

“Harry, there’s so much…” Draco started to say, but Harry held a finger to his lips. 

“Come on, Draco, let’s do this. We can move into Grimmauld Place. What the hell, right? It’s technically just as much your home as it is mine. We can live together, and I can wake up early because you hate to, and I’ll make you breakfast and coffee every day. I’ll get better at making coffee, I swear. And you can still do your probation, and we can be together, and you can study to be a Potions Master. And we can have a future together.” 

“Okay, hold on,” Draco said, pulling back a bit. 

“But we love each other, right?” Harry asked, his voice cracking as he fought back tears. He swallowed once and added, “I know things are complicated. I’m not pretending they aren’t. You always say that I’m not looking at the big picture, but I am. It’s you. You’re the big picture for me.”

Draco’s eyes went wide as he searched Harry’s face. He tried to pull his hands from Harry’s, but Harry squeezed. Draco sighed. “Harry, let’s calm down. We don’t need to figure all this out right now, do we?”

“Yes, we do because I’ve waited and waited for something like this my whole life. To feel the way I feel when I’m with you. I’m done waiting, Draco. I died last year, don’t you get it?” Harry’s voice quivered and he couldn’t keep the tears from falling. They ran hot down his cheeks. “I died, and came back and have a second chance at a normal life. I won't squander that chance by being scared of what everyone else thinks.”

“But why right now, Harry?” Draco asked, his own voice quivering though no tears fell from his eyes. “Why not in a year or when my probation is over?”

“Because right now is... _right now_. School is ending, and I don’t want to be away from you ever. Just the thought of it makes my stomach sink.”

“Harry, let’s just talk this through.”

“No, I don’t want to talk. All we’ve done all year is talk about what life would be like when school was over. I want to know. I want to act.” Harry squeezed Draco’s hands in his, brought them to his lips and kissed Draco’s knuckles. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “I want you. Don’t you want me?”

“Yes,” Draco said, his voice barely audible, “I do.”

“I want you, Draco. All of you. Say yes, Draco. Just say yes. I’ve given you time to think about what our relationship will be like after school, but I can’t keep waiting like this. I’m ready to tell everyone now.” Harry knew he sounded crazed, desperate, but now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop himself. “Move in with me. It’s not like it will change that much. We already sleep together most nights.”

Draco pulled his hands free of Harry’s and backed up to sit on the back of the couch. He raked one hand through his hair, sighing. “I’m just...I’m trying to think here.” His other hand shook as he covered his mouth.

“Draco, what is there to think about? There are so many closets at Grimmauld Place, and books. You _love_ books. I’ll even refrain from having Gryffindor colors in our room since I know you hate them and if it’s between you and Gryffindor colors, I pick you. I pick you. I’ll pick you every time.”

“I don’t care about what color the room is, Harry.”

Harry grabbed Draco’s hands again, interlocking their fingers. “Then say yes. I’m going crazy here. I’m all in. I told you I was all in a million times. I’m all in, Draco. I need this to happen.”

“It will, but I have other things to consider, Harry. The Probationary Board is just waiting for me to mess up, and I’ve already been rejected by four Potions Masters for apprenticeships. I’m going to have to start looking outside of England. I might have to move just to get a fair chance at an apprenticeship. And the papers, Merlin, the papers already got wind of our friendship, and the gossip isn’t kind. People still see me as a traitor, as a Death Eater. I get death threats, Harry. Just for being your friend. Imagine what they will do if they find out we are dating, that we’ve been dating the better part of the year. I can’t bring that into your home. I won’t put you in danger ever again. I won’t be the reason you get hurt.”

“But once they get used to us together, everything will be fine.”

“Harry, that’s not how it works and you know it.” Draco pulled one of his hands free and cupped Harry’s face. He stroked his thumb alone Harry’s cheekbone, wiping away the tears that had fallen. “There’s no rush. We can wait until I make things right, until it's settled.”

Harry’s gut twisted. Tears fell faster, now. Hot, angry tears. He surprised himself by pulling away from Draco and saying, “No. I don’t accept that.”

“No?” There was shock all over Draco’s face. Shock and betrayal. He arched an eyebrow at Harry. “What do you mean ‘no’?

Harry threw his hands up in exasperation. “I mean _no_.” 

His whole life had been dictated to him by someone else, by the rest of the world and what they needed, what was best for them...but what about what was best for him? Dumbledore shepherded him along, taking any real choice away from him until all that was left was for him to die. Now it was his turn to make choices, his turn to be happy. He wasn’t waiting anymore and he sure as hell wasn’t going to let the opinions of strangers dictate his life.

Draco’s cheeks flushed pink. He licked his lips, and asked, “Harry, what exactly are you saying?”

That caught Harry off guard. What was he saying? He clenched his jaw and said the words that had been forming in his mind all week. “It’s now or never, Draco. It’s us, or it isn’t. Will you live with me or not?” 

“Harry,” Draco said, his tone a warning. “I don’t respond well to ultimatums.”

“Well, tough.”

“I can’t just jump like this, Harry.” Draco grabbed Harry’s waist, pulling him closer to stand between his legs. Harry felt his heart pounding, trying to break out of his rib cage and fly away from this conversation. Draco pulled him down into a kiss. It was soft, unsure. Draco whispered against his lips. “I just need a little more time to think about all the possibilities, the consequences.”

“Well, I guess that’s my answer then.” Harry pulled away from Draco. “I have to, uh, I have to go. Exams in the morning.” Except, Harry didn’t move toward the stairs that led to his room, he turned on his heel, grabbed a bottle of fire whisky from the cabinet where the eighth years stored their community contraband, and stormed out of the common room, his heart in his throat, hot tears streaming down his face, and opened the bottle and relished the burn of alcohol as he drank. 


	3. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry writes the letter for Draco and is in Denial. Ginny comes in and he hides it. Hermione comes to visit.

Harry looked up from the parchment where he was on attempt number three for Draco’s character reference and locked eyes with Ginny. She was holding a cup of tea, steam still rising from the mug. Her hair was up in a quick bun. Wisps of golden-red hair framed her face. She nodded toward the desk and asked, “What ya got there? Case files?”

Startled, Harry flipped the letter over, along with Draco’s lawyer’s contact information that had come by owl earlier that morning, and covered it with a blank piece of parchment. “Yup, you know how Robards is when I turn them in late.” 

She nodded knowingly. Harry had been in trouble a few times for forgetting to file reports. “You must have gotten up extra early to be up before me. I missed you in bed when I woke up.”

Harry smiled. “Sorry, Gin.”

Ginny licked her lips, and said in a breathy tone, “I’d hoped we could finally... _ reconnect _ .” She put special emphasis on ‘reconnect’ and looked at him expectantly. “After all, I’ve been gone a month and even before that you were so busy with training at odd hours. It feels like forever since we’ve...”

“Maybe later?” Harry asked, hoping that he could push it off by being busy with work later. He pointed at the papers in front of him. “Still got a bit to get done before I head out.”

“Later. then.” She shrugged, disappointment obvious in her tone. She turned like she was leaving, then stopped. “Oh, uh, did you think anymore about which room we could renovate into my home gym?”

“Er, no, not yet. I’m sorry. Been so busy.” 

Ginny nodded, then sipped her tea. “What about access to the wards? Am I able to change them and add people yet?”

Harry winced. “I haven’t gotten to that yet either.”

“Harry, you do want me here, right?”

“What? Of course, I do. Why would you say that?”

“Well, you’ve been promising that we would fix the wards for two months now, and it’s not done. Every time I suggest moving something, you tell me you like it where it is. I don’t know, I’m just feeling more like a long term house guest.”

“That’s not true, Gin. Works been...I’ll get to it. I promise.”

She smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was the kind of smile donned to hide sadness. “Right, okay. I have an hour till practice. I figured I’d finally unpack the rest of my stuff in the bedroom. I’ve been so busy with all the away games and you’ve been busy with work. Most of my stuff is still in boxes.” 

“Good idea. I’ll help when I’m done.” He smiled what he hoped was a relaxed and normal smile.  
  
“Okay, see you in a bit, Harry.” Ginny took a sip of her tea and added, “You should really ask Robards about that vacation time. You work too hard.”

“I will,” Harry lied, and when Ginny closed the door to his study, he tucked the letter in the top drawer and spelled it shut just as the fireplace in his study roared to life, green flames licking at the mantle. 

“Harry? Harry, are you there?” It was Hermione. He could see the outline of her wild curls when the Firecall came through. “Can I come in?”

Harry got up from his desk as he said, “Course.” He was in front of the fireplace just as Hermione stepped out. She wore her Ministry official robes with a smart-looking green pantsuit underneath. Her hair was barely contained by the headband she wore to keep her fringe back. 

“Hi,” she said. “Gin around?”

Harry looked at the door to the study. “She’s unpacking, why? Do you want me to go get her?”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “No, Merlin, no.”

“Oooookay?” Harry asked, elongating the word into a question. “Then what’s up?”

There was a moment of quiet while Hermione nodded to herself, biting down on her bottom lip in contemplation. He knew that face to mean she was about to say something he wouldn’t like. “Luna told me about the letter.”

Harry’s throat went dry, he looked at the open door and crossed the room to shut it. “The letter? What letter?”

Hermione gave him a face that screamed  _ ‘oh, please’ _ and said, “The character reference for Draco. He told her he needed one, and she suggested he ask you and I assume he did. At least, that’s what it looked like at the engagement party last night.”

“How did you...but you weren’t even paying attention.”

She scoffed. “I’m always paying attention, Harry.”

“Right, okay.” Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His legs felt like jelly under him. “Don’t say anything to Gin, okay? She wouldn’t understand.”

“That’s an understatement.” Hermione eyed him and then added, “I won’t say anything, but you should.”

“It’s harder than I expected,” Harry admitted, ignoring her advice. If Hermione had proven anything to him over the years, it was that she was a steel trap. Ron couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and Hermione was the exact opposite. 

“Yeah, of course it is.”

“I just...I keep thinking, you know, that whatever I put in that letter could affect his entire future. If they don’t like what I say, or if I offend them, and let’s be honest—I tend to offend Ministry officials on a regular basis, so if I mess up…”

“It’s a lot of pressure. Plus it’s not just anyone, is it? It’s Draco, you know?  _ Draco _ . You two have been through a lot. More than most.” 

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. “Well, yeah.”

“It’s got to be difficult to dig up your feelings for him. Brings it all back up to the surface where you can’t ignore it. I can imagine it’s overwhelming. You guys were so hot and heavy and then, poof, just over. I never thought you resolved all your feelings for him...”

“It’s not...it’s not bringing up feelings for him. That is not, er, I don’t think that’s it. I just don’t want to mess up his chances, you know?”

Her eyebrow shot up in silent disagreement. “Okay, Harry. If you say so.”

“I think it’s more about writing a good—no, a great letter.” He paced. It was hard to stay still when he felt like this. “The stakes are high for him. If they don’t accept his appeal, he has to wait another two years before he gets the chance again. I just want to write something that will convince them to let him off probation. It’s the least I can do.”

“If that’s all it is…”

“That’s all it is, Hermione,” he told her, hoping he sounded firm.

“Okay, Harry, but if it’s not, you know where to find me.” She hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding until Harry wrapped his arms around her. They stood there, embracing like that, for what felt like an eternity. 

Hermione pulled away first. “You know I love you no matter what, right?”

“I do.”

“Good,” she said and headed back toward the fireplace. She pulled out some Floo powder and tossed it into the hearth. “See you later, Harry.” The flames turned green and she stepped through, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts. 


	4. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fight with Draco, Harry finds himself back in the Gryffindor common room and Ginny is there.

Things would never be the same—that much was clear. How had things gone bad so fast? Harry replayed the conversation over in his mind as he walked down the dim corridors of the castle, taking swig after swig from the whisky bottle. His heart hadn’t slowed down, his stomach was in knots, and he just wanted someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be alright. 

Without meaning to, he found himself outside the Gryffindor common room. The Fat Lady snored in her frame. Harry stood there a moment, trying to decide what to do, and then the Fat Lady stirred, made a snorting sort of cough sound, and snapped her eyes open. “Potter? Harry Potter? Out of bed after hours? Why am I not surprised?”

“Would you mind terribly letting me in?” Harry asked. His voice sounded hoarse, and he knew his face was likely still red and tear stained. 

The Fat Lady took another look at him and said, “I suppose...it couldn’t hurt.” The portrait swung in, revealing Harry’s old common room. He felt a wave of relief at the familiar room, and went inside before the portrait changed its mind. 

The room was quiet. Not even an ember burned in the fireplace. He was glad for the quiet, for the darkness. He went to one of the armchairs that was out of sight, sort of tucked behind a bookcase, and curled up in it. He fell asleep thinking about what, if anything, he could have said or done differently in his conversation with Draco. 

__

When Harry awoke, the room was still dark, but someone had started a fire. He couldn’t have been asleep more than an hour because he didn’t wake up with a stiff neck, or a hangover. In fact, he still felt a bit drunk. Someone sat on the floor in front of the fire, poking at it with one of the iron fire pokers. 

The person turned, showing Harry their profile, and it was Ginny. She was in an oversized sleep shirt and knee-high striped socks in the colors of the Holyhead Harpies. Her golden-red hair was up in a messy bun at the top of her head. “Hey, Harry.” 

“Hey,” he said, wiping some drool from the corner of his mouth. “What are you doing up?”

She laughed. “Could ask you the same thing. Could also ask what you're doing in the Gryffindor common room. What, the eighth year common room isn’t cozy enough or something?”

“It’s plenty cozy, but I needed...somewhere familiar.”

She nodded, poking at the fire until one of the logs broke. “Ready for exams tomorrow?”

Harry got up and padded over to sit with Ginny in front of the fire. His head swam a little from the alcohol still coursing through him. He crossed his legs under him. “Not really, but when am I ever ready for anything?”

“True. It’s the Potter way to just jump and then sort of figure it out on the fly.”

“The Potter way, ha,” he laughed bitterly. The Potter way got him into a lot of messes over the years, not the least of which, his situation with Draco. “We all know how effective the Potter way is.”

“Eh, I sort of admire that you do things in an all or nothing way. It’s what makes you a great wizard.”

“But a terrible person.”

“You’ve always been a good person. Least I always thought so.” There was a sadness in her voice, one that he knew was attributed to him and his decision to stay broken up after the war. Ginny had wanted to go back to the way things were, but he was different and knew it would never be like it was.

“I’m sorry, Gin. Don’t think I ever really said that to you after everything. I know it’s a bit late, almost a year late, but I am sorry for hurting you.”

She waved a hand at his apology. “It’s okay.”

“I wanted to say it. I tried to about a hundred times, but…”

“Don’t sweat it. You made a choice that you felt was right. I can’t fault you for that.”

“We’re friends, right? I know we haven’t talked much since, uh, well, you know. But I still care about you.”

“I know. We’re friends, Harry.”

There was a long, pregnant silence that only served to remind Harry of what happened between him and Draco. His head began to swim, so he took a breath and said, “So, the Holyhead Harpies, huh? You gonna sign with them? Ron told me about it over lunch.”

“Yeah, think I am.”

“That’s great, Gin. You deserve it. You’re so talented and…”

“Actually, Harry, you know what?” She didn’t turn to face him, instead she poked at the fire a little harder this time, making the other log snap in half. “I will always be your friend, but this is still too hard for me. I didn’t think it would be, but it is.”

“What is?”

“Just this. Having a conversation with you like we never…like there was never anything between us. It’s too hard for me and that’s probably why we didn’t see much of each other this year. Being around you and not being with you was too hard.”

“Gin, I never meant…  
  
Ginny sighed, and then turned to face Harry. She waited until he was looking at her and then said, “I love you, Harry. Have since we were kids. I know you said things couldn’t just go back to normal after the war. I understood that, so I gave you space. I figured, he needs time, I can give him time. And then  _ he _ happened, and I said, it’s okay because Harry and I are meant to be together. And you might not see it right now, and that’s fine. It is, you know, because I can see it, and I can wait. And if I have to wait until we are old, and saggy, and gray, I will. I will wait for you, Harry. This is it for me. You’re it for me, and I won’t pretend otherwise. Not anymore.” 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ginny was already standing and heading back toward the stairs to the girls dorms. He watched her go, the empty, sinking feeling in his gut calcifying into a lead weight that made him feel like he was sinking. He grabbed the bottle and finished it off, letting the burn of the alcohol ease the pain of his guilt.


	5. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry runs into Draco again at a tux fitting and they have a Moment™️. Neville expresses some concerns. And we meet Stella (I love her).

Harry opened the door of the tuxedo shop to complete pandemonium. All around the shop, there were vines, and foliage that seemed to spout up through the wooden floorboards and walls. A long mirror was shattered and lay on its side. And there was what looked like a small plant monster chasing a man holding measuring tape, who had to be the tailor, and Neville chasing the plant monster saying, “There, there, Stella, everything is fine.”

Ron, Dean, and Seamus all stood at the back of the small shop watching the scene play out before them. Ron looked ashamedly amused. He stood with one hand under his chin, the other crossed over his torso. A playful grin was spread across his face despite the fact that he was wearing what looked like a Frankenstein suit. There were needles pinning the fabric all over, and one sleeve was so long it covered his hand. Dean and Seamus looked horrified, but nonetheless as amused as Ron. Both of them wore their own clothes. Dean in a green cable knit sweater and jeans, and Seamus in a leather jacket and black slacks. 

“Hey, Harry,” Ron said over the chaos. The tailor had taken to standing atop his stool, just out of reach of the little plant monster. It looked to Harry like it was made of twigs and a few blossoms. He could hear what sounded like a squeaky voice erupting from the little things...mouth.

“Hey,” Harry said, easing his way into the shop and closing the door behind him. “I feel like I missed something?”

“Always, tardy, Mr Potter,” Seamus chided him like a professor. “You’ll likely be late to your own funeral.”

“Probably,” Harry answered, keeping his eyes on the scene in front of him. He’d seen his share of weird things since becoming a wizard, but this would definitely be ranking top five oddest moments.

“Have you met Stella?” Dean asked, pointing to the small plant who was angrily shaking it’s, well for lack of a better word, fist, at the tailor. 

“I have not,” Harry answered, doing his best to stifle a laugh. “Nev, who is Stella?”

Neville, who was also in a suit similar to what Ron wore, was laying on the ground, belly down, whispering something to the little plant. He looked up at Harry and smiled. “Stella is from the Black Forest in Germany. She is a Dryad, and she stowed away in my luggage after my trip there last month to study the local flora and fauna. She sort of took a liking to me and well, she thought the tailor was hurting me because he pricked me with a needle.”

“It was an accident. Tell her it was an accident,” the tailor, who unsurprisingly had an Italian accent, begged. He looked down at the Dryad and there was genuine fear in his eyes. 

“She’ll calm down in a minute,” Neville said, tucking his arms under him, and sitting up in what could only be described as a slumber party pose, his legs bent at the knees, feet swinging back and forth. “So, Harry, why are you late?”

Harry cleared his throat of the laugh that was still threatening to bubble to the surface. “Uh, got held up at work. New case.” He tore his eyes away from Neville and the Dryad to look at Ron, who was now quietly chuckling. They shared a glance that said ‘You deal with it’ and then Harry added, “Uh, Nev, why did you bring a Dryad to a tux fitting?”

“She gets separation anxiety,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“Right, of course,” Harry answered and then sat on the floor next to Neville. “Would you mind if I tried to calm her down?”

Neville looked up at him with pure delight. “Of course not, Harry.”

So, Harry leaned down, and whispered, “Hi, Stella. I’m Harry, how are you?”

The small Dryad, turned away from the stool where the tailor was still standing, and regarded Harry with curious eyes that were the color of poinsettias. After a moment, she scurried away from the stool to stand mere inches from Harry’s crossed legs and then said, “Hi” in a squeaky-fairy like voice.  
  
“How are you?” He asked.

“Mean man,” she said, pointing behind her to the tailor. He audibly gulped and hugged his torso. Sheesh, Harry thought, what did he miss?

“If he apologizes, would you promise to leave him be?”

She eyed Harry, then turned to face Neville. “Yes.”

Harry looked up at the tailor who scrunched his face like he’d just tasted a sour tart. “Me apologize? Look at the state of my shop?”

Stella really didn’t like that answer. The vines on the walls started growing, slithering toward the man. Harry took a breath and said, “I will pay for the repairs. Now will you apologize?”

The tailor looked at Harry as if he was only just seeing him. Recognition dawned on him and he said, “Yes, of course, Mr Potter.”

Harry smiled, turned to Neville and winked. His friend put out his hand for the little Dryad to jump on. She did so happily, then Neville stood so she was eye to eye with the tailor. He coughed, looked around at his shop, then at Harry, and said, “I am terribly sorry for hurting Mr Longbottom, dearest Stella. Would you forgive me for my transgression?”

Stella nodded in the affirmative and then hopped off Neville’s palm and scurried over to what looked like Neville’s messenger bag and tucked herself into the side pocket. Once she was cozy, the plant life around the shop sort of just disappeared. 

With that settled, the tailor hopped off his stool, straightened his vest, and said, “Mr Weasley, Mr Longbottom, I am done with you, so you may both change. That just leaves Mr Potter, and one other groomsman to be measured and fitted. The others are finished.”

Harry scrunched his brows together. “Which other groomsman? Aren’t we all here?“  
  
Before anyone could answer, the door to the shop swung open accompanied by a small bell ringing. Harry turned around to see Draco, his white-blonde hair windswept, a pale blue scarf tucked around his neck, wearing a long black cloak. 

“Dear Merlin, what happened here?” He asked as he took in the scene. Even without the plants growing out of the floor and walls, the place still looked a mess. 

“You missed all the fun,” Dean said, teasingly. “Neville had a Dryad who does not take kindly to strangers, and the rest of us got here on time, so we’re done.” Dean picked up his coat, and headed to the door, stepping around Harry who still sat cross-legged on the floor. 

“Poor chaps,” Seamus agreed, following Dean. “We’ll be at the Leaky for a bit if you all want to pop by when you’re finished.”

Ron emerged from the dressing room just then and said, “Wait up, I could use a pint.” Dean was already outside, but Seamus held the door open, letting in the cold. Ron headed toward the door, then stopped, knelt down next to Harry, and whispered, “You okay with just Draco and Neville?”

Harry eyed Draco, who was taking his cloak off and hanging it on the coat rack. He wore a simple long sleeved button up the color of smoke with black trousers. On most people, it would look like a business outfit, but on Draco it looked downright glamourous. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Harry asked, keeping his voice a whisper. 

“The whole character letter thing,” he said, nodding toward Draco.

Harry was about to ask how in the blazes Ron knew about it, but then saw Neville coming out of the dressing room and put two and two together. If Luna knew, then Neville knew and if Neville knew...well, he was the only gossip worse than Ron.

“I know it’s got to be bringing up some stuff. I’m here to talk, if you want.”

Harry smiled at Ron and said, “Thanks, I’m okay, mate.” And with that, Ron was up and out the door, leaving Harry with Neville and Draco and a very bothered tailor. 

__

There were a lot of quiet moments once the tailor got started. Harry was up first, standing on the stool as the tailor measured places Harry wasn’t entirely sure needed measuring. Neville was sitting in a corner, talking to the Dryad in hushed tones. It was oddly sweet. Draco, on the other hand, made no effort to pretend he wasn’t watching the tailor work on Harry. He sat with his legs crossed, and his hands resting gently in his lap. 

The silence was too much, so Harry blurted out, “I’m almost done the letter. Just putting some finishing touches on it. I promise it will be in by the due date.”

Draco smiled one of his calculated ‘I’m in charge of my emotions’ smiles, and said, “I have no doubt it will be in on time.”

Neville cleared his throat, tucked Stella in his shirt pocket and said, very suddenly, “I think I’ll go grab us all some hot cocoa. Antoni, would you like some as well?”

Antoni must have been the tailor’s name because he nodded his thanks without even taking his eyes off Harry’s inseam. He pricked Harry a bit with a needle, but Harry managed to only wince. He wasn’t sure Stella would jump to his rescue the way she had Neville, but it was best not to tempt fate. 

The door closed with another ring of a bell, and Harry was left with a man poking and prodding his groin while his ex-boyfriend sat there, looking like a Greek statue, not talking. Harry had to take two deep breaths to keep from apparating away on the spot. 

“It’s funny,” Harry started, and then looked at the tailor. He decided that the man was so preoccupied with his work that he wasn’t really listening, and then continued. “Writing this letter is bringing back all kinds of memories from school.”

Draco barely moved, but Harry caught the slight rise of a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Hopefully, the good ones. Seeing as I need you to make me look good.”

Harry laughed, which made him move, which made Antoni curse under his breath. Both Harry and Draco breathed out a laugh when the poor man ceased his muttering. “Yes, the good ones. Of course, the good ones.”

“You’re going to let someone proofread it before you send it, aren’t you? We both know you can’t spell worth a damn.”

“Hey, I resent that. I am perfectly adequate at spelling.”

“Then spell ‘adequate.’ Go on,” Draco teased. There was the barest quirk of his lip into a coy smile. 

“Okay, fine. I will have someone proofread it. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” 

“So, uh, I wanted to ask…” Harry started but trailed off.

Draco licked his lips, a nervous habit of his that Harry always found endearing when they were dating, and said, “Yes?”

Then Neville returned with the hot cocoa’s and both Harry and Draco dropped their gazes. Neville passed one to Draco, then to Antoni, who sniffed it appreciatively, and finally placed Harry’s on a small table near the stool. 

“Best hot cocoa in Diagon Alley,” Neville said, sipping his, then because it was too hot, he opened his mouth as if to vent out the steam. “Hot, too hot.”

Draco took one look at his cup and then placed it on the table next to Harry’s. “I think I’ll let mine cool down for a moment.”

“Good idea,” Neville said, but it sounded more like ‘Goob ideaba’ because of his burnt tongue. 

“Mr Malfoy,” Antoni said, “I am ready for you now. Mr Potter, you stay still for a moment, and then I will remove your pins.”

Harry sighed, but did as he was told while Draco stepped up onto a stool next to him. The man was tall, even without being on a stool. It had always been a point of honor for Draco that he was taller, even if only by a few inches, than the famed Boy Who Lived. He was so competitive, the git. They’d had many a mock fight over it that ended in some serious...kissing. Harry had to work to push the memory out of his mind before he let himself remember what Draco’s lips tasted like.

Draco looked at Harry out of his periphery, and smirked. “So sorry you don’t get to be taller than me anymore, Potter. I know standing on a stool probably made you forget how tiny you are, but reality comes for us all in the end. Pity.”

It seemed Draco had been thinking about the same thing, which only made Harry’s stomach flutter with excitement. It had been a long time since he had verbally sparred with Draco. He missed it. Most people were too busy trying to kiss his arse to challenge him. “Oh, Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy, you may be taller, but we all know who's better looking.”

Draco laughed, startling Antoni, and said, “Still delusional then, Potter?”

“Still insufferable, Malfoy?” Harry asked, meeting Draco’s gaze while Antoni moved around Draco, quietly doing his job and likely wishing he’d called in sick today. 

Harry held Draco’s gaze for a second too long because he felt the urge to pull Draco into a kiss that would leave them both breathless. It washed over him like a tidal wave, tearing down any walls he’d built to keep those thoughts at bay. Draco’s face flushed pink, his eyes pulled away from Harry’s with what looked like considerable effort. 

Neville laughed, spitting out a bit of hot cocoa. “I almost forgot what it was like to watch you two go at it. It’s strangely comforting. I almost think I miss it.”

Antoni picked that moment to ‘need something from the back,’ and grabbed his hot cocoa before heading behind a partition. 

“So,” Neville said into the silence. “Are you guys excited to be the best people at the wedding?”

Draco turned to face Harry, looking unsteady. “Definitely.”

“One hundred percent,” Harry agreed. He felt his heart pounding so furiously that he was sure everyone in a three kilometer radius could hear it. Between writing the letter and bantering with Draco, Harry wasn’t sure he was being completely honest about how he was feeling and he didn’t like it one bit. 

“Good, good, because Luna wanted me to tell you guys that as the best people, it is your job to plan the stag night, which we want to do together. That means the two of you need to coordinate.”

“Oh,” Draco said at the same time that Harry muttered, “Super.”

Neville looked back and forth between them and said, “Unless it’s too weird for you to plan the night together? I mean, I’d understand if…”

“No, no,” Draco said, cutting him off. “I’m fine, so long as Harry is.”

Harry nodded. “I’m good. No weirdness.”

“Okay, great. That’s settled.” After that, Neville sat back in his chair, sipping at his hot cocoa, talking to Stella the Dryad, while Antoni finished his work. It moved along fast now that everything was quiet. Draco didn’t say much more than a few words to Antoni about his suit after that. 

“Done,” Antoni announced. “You both may change.” He placed his tool down, picked up his cocoa again and began discussing some logistics with Neville. 

Draco stepped off his stool first, then took a sip of his cocoa before heading for the dressing rooms. He turned to face Harry and said, “Want to meet for lunch tomorrow and plan the party?”

“Sure, uh, noon at the Leaky?”

Draco nodded, and then disappeared behind the dressing room curtain. Harry followed suit. While he dressed, he had to keep telling himself to stop thinking about Draco’s naked body in the room next to his. It was decidedly a bad thing. 

When Harry came out, Draco was already gone. Neville caught him looking around and said, “He dresses quickly, huh?”

“Sure does.”

Harry asked Antoni to forward the bill for fixing the place up to his home, and then wished the man well before stepping out into the cold with Neville and Stella, who was looking up at Neville from her new spot, nestled into the folds of Neville’s scarf. 

When they were at the Apparation point outside the Leaky, Neville said, “You guys seemed to fall back into step pretty fast. Like no time passed at all.”

Harry shrugged. “I guess.”

“You know, Harry,” Neville said, sounding serious, “you  _ can _ talk to me about it.”

_ Merlin _ , Harry thought,  _ was it that obvious that he was struggling with the letter and all the things it brought up? _ He schooled his expression and asked, “Talk about what?”

Neville rolled his eyes. “Come on, Harry. Everyone knows you’re writing a letter for Draco’s probationary hearing except Ginny. It has to be bringing up some stuff. You’re only human. But you should tell her.”

“I will. I just haven’t gotten around to it yet. Been busy.”

“Harry,  _ really _ ?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? You just tell her. Seems easy to me. Unless there’s some reason you’re keeping the truth from her?”

“The truth isn’t always easy. Not when it will hurt the person you’re keeping the truth from.”

Neville put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed. “Are you and Ginny okay?”

“Yeah, fine, it’s just, she gets sensitive about Draco. It’s always been a sore subject with us, and we just moved in together. Things are a little weird because of that, and I just don’t want to hurt her over something that isn’t anything.”

“Okay, I guess I understand that logic, but Harry, if things weren’t okay, you know with you and Ginny, that would be understandable.”

“It would?”

“You guys did get together pretty fast after you ended things with Draco. Then she went away to train with the Harpies and you guys hardly saw one another. You barely see each other now. All I’m saying is, I’d understand if you guys were having a hard time.”

“We didn’t get together that fast, did we?”

“Felt like it was maybe a few days, if that.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“Look, it’s none of my business, and I love you both, but we all thought...well, we thought you and Draco were sort of meant for one another. When we found out you guys were dating, sure most of us were shocked, but when we thought about it, it made an odd sort of sense and you seemed really happy. None of us ever got why you guys ended it. It was just so abrupt. One minute you guys were all over each other, then the next you two were back to throwing angry glances across the room. Everyone was too afraid to ask about it, and then all of a sudden you and Ginny were together like nothing happened and we all sort of just accepted it.”

Harry smiled to himself, trying to keep the tears at bay. “We just wanted different things in the end. He wasn’t ready for the world to know about us. I was, and I pressured him. He didn’t like that, so we broke up. End of story.”

“Okay, but Harry, remember, I’m here if you need to talk. See you later,” Neville said, taking one final sip of his hot cocoa before Apparating away. 


	6. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have some fun under the stars. ;)

Harry watched Draco as he pointed to another constellation. They were lying side by side on a blanket near the Black Lake, and had been out so long that the late spring chill was cutting through Harry’s sweater. “Look, a shooting star. It’s breathtaking,” Draco said, pointing at the sky. 

“Cool,” Harry replied. They had been sneaking out all week to lay under the stars with one another, and Harry was convinced that he’d never felt more sure that he was in the right place, with the right person, as he was when he watched Draco get excited about constellations and shooting stars. 

“Are you even looking?” Draco asked, his tone exasperated. He sat up, resting on one elbow so he could look down at Harry’s face. The chill in the air had turned his nose and cheeks pink, and his hair was a tangled mess from their earlier make-out session. Harry liked seeing the evidence of their passion on Draco like that. 

“At the sky no, but at something breathtaking? Yes.”

Draco rolled his eyes at Harry. “Merlin, that was your cheesiest line yet, Potter.”

“I’ve got cheesier than that. Just you wait, Malfoy. I’m talking gouda, brie, and maybe even some sharp cheddar.”

Amusement played at the corner of Draco’s mouth until he couldn’t hold the smile off any longer. “Go on then, lay one on me, Cheese Master.”

Harry pushed himself up, resting on his elbows so he was face to face with Draco. “Are you from outer space?”

“No, why?” Draco asked, working hard to keep the laughter out of his voice.

“Because,” Harry nodded toward Draco’s arse, “your arse is out of this world.”

There was a moment of utter silence where the only sound was the water of the lake moving in the breeze, and then Draco burst out laughing. He fell backward, clutching his stomach as the laugh continued. 

Harry took this opportunity to lean over Draco and steal a kiss. At first, Draco was still laughing, his breath warm against Harry’s lips as he chuckled. Then Harry lightly nibbled on Draco’s bottom lip, and the kiss turned serious. Harry never tired of the way Draco’s mouth moved, the way he opened up to Harry. It made him breathless. 

Without breaking apart, Harry managed to roll Draco on top of him, pinning him in place by wrapping his arms around Draco’s torso. There was a muffled moan as Draco situated himself so he could grind against Harry, straddling him. The kiss was feverish, so much so that Harry could barely think clearly through the haze of desire. 

Draco let out a shaking breath, and pulled away from the kiss, his head bowed, hair falling around his face. “I can’t believe that worked.”

Still dazed by how badly Harry wanted to rip Draco’s clothes off, he asked, “What?”

That earned an eye roll from Draco. “Your ridiculous pick up line.”

Harry laughed, waggling his eyebrows. “Course it did. I’m smooth like that.”

Draco licked his lips, watching Harry, then said defiantly, “It won’t work again, Potter, trust me.”

“Wanna bet?” Harry asked, pulling Draco down until their lips were inches apart. He took in the fresh smell of Draco’s mint tea that he drank every night at dinner, and suddenly became aware of Draco moving against him, slowly.

“What do I get if I win?” Draco asked, his breathing changed. It came out faster, heavier. His tongue flicked out, licking along his bottom lip. 

Harry was so hard that it hurt. He swallowed and said, “What do I get  _ when _ I win?”

“Need you,” Draco moaned, tracing a line of kisses along Harry’s jaw. 

All rational thought went out the window when Draco reached the spot below his earlobe and began dragging his teeth lightly over Harry’s skin. He felt his pulse quicken under Draco’s achingly slow movements. He closed the space between their lips, tasting Draco. There was a pleasure so primal when Harry kissed Draco that he worried he might never be rational around the man ever again. Not that he’d had much luck even before he knew what Draco tasted like. 

Harry lifted the hem of Draco’s sweater, spreading his fingers over the soft, warm skin of his abdomen. He ran his hands up to tweak Draco’s hardened nipples, eliciting another soft moan from him. 

“Yes,” Draco moaned into his mouth over and over. 

Harry slid his hands down to the waist of Draco’s trousers, and worked to unfasten his belt buckle. Draco reached a hand down to help. When it was done, Harry fumbled with the button and zipper, then reached under the band of his pants. Draco was hard and slick with his pleasure. Harry ran his thumb over the tip in slow circles until Draco broke the kiss to roll off of Harry. 

Draco’s eyes snapped open and they were glossy with arousal. “I can’t think when I’m around you, Potter.”

“So don’t,” Harry said, leaning down to place a kiss on the front of Draco’s pants. “Thinking is terribly overrated.”

A languid smile spread across Draco’s face. “Great advice. No thinking about how crazy it is that you turn me on more than I’ve ever been turned on in my life.”

“Exactly.” Harry slid one hand below the elastic of Draco’s waist band. Draco’s smile slipped away, replaced by an open mouth moan as he arched into Harry’s touch. The world narrowed around him, everything else fading until all Harry could feel was raw, carnal need. 

Draco’s hand moved to work at Harry’s buckle, but Harry caught Draco’s hands and pinned them over his head. All Harry wanted was to watch Draco moan while he touched him. 

“Need to...” Draco tried to speak, but broke off into a panting moan when Harry sped up his movements. He was close, Harry could feel it. 

Selfish need filling him, Harry leaned down and licked and nibbled at Draco’s neck, loving the taste of the spring night mixed with the sweat of Draco’s arousal. The feeling of Draco’s ragged breaths against him brought a moan from his own mouth. He was close, too, just from touching Draco. He shivered as pleasure rose in him, savoring the taste of Draco, the feel of his warmth in Harry’s hand. 

Draco’s moans turned to unintelligible words, urging Harry on, until Harry felt Draco tense. The knowledge of Draco’s orgasm brought Harry to the edge, too, and he quickly unfastened his pants, struggling with the belt. Draco’s trembling hands took over and then wrapped around Harry, stroking feverishly until Harry felt that release. 

Harry snapped his eyes open, a moan escaping him, and saw a shooting star blaze across the night sky. And as he lay there, sated and feeling happy for the first time in a long time, he said, “Go out with me.”

Draco, who had been busy casting a cleaning spell, laughed and said, “Isn’t that what we are doing?”

“No. We are sneaking out, making out, but not going out.”

“What’s the difference?”

Harry sat up, taking one of Draco’s hands in his. “I want to take you on a date. Go out with me.”

“You can’t be serious?” Draco laughed, but when he looked at Harry, his face settled and he added, “You are serious?”

“Yes, is that so crazy?”

Draco shrugged. “Maybe it wouldn’t be if you weren’t you and I wasn’t me. If we were just two blokes who happened to like one another. But that’s not the case. It’s why we sneak out to do this.”

“We don’t have to.”

“Don’t we?”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t see why. I like you, Draco. This is the best I’ve felt since before the war. I want to buy you dinner, or take you to a Qudditch game and hold your hand.”

“People aren’t even ready to accept that I’m not a Death Eater and you want them to accept that I am dating their Saviour?”

“Okay, maybe not people then. How about our friends? Can’t we at least tell them. Hold hands around them?”

Draco considered for a moment, his eyes searching Harry as he did. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Harry asked, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Yes, just the eighth years, okay?” 

Harry leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on Draco’s lip. “And Luna, of course.”

“What about the female Weasley?” 

Harry sighed. “I’ll tell her first.”

“That’s probably best since she will likely want to hex my bollocks off.”

“Probably.” Harry smiled, feeling full and content. Draco rolled his eyes, but leaned in to kiss Harry. It wasn’t as hungry as the other kisses had been, but there was still a primal pull there, something that made Harry feel like he would die if Draco ever stopped kissing him like that. 


	7. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Letter sent, Harry meets Draco and Luna at the Leaky for lunch to plan the stag night, and Luna reveals a little tidbit of info that’s got Harry thinking.

Harry stopped for a breath, reading over his fourth draft of the character letter, before signing it and folding it up. He was finished. It took him four tries, but he managed to get out onto paper what he felt about Draco’s character. 

“Here, Plum,” Harry called out to his owl. She was perched in the back corner of his study on the open windowsill. Much like Hedwig, Plum hated being cooped up, so it was always hit or miss if she’d be around to carry off a letter for him. He considered her presence as good omen and tied the letter to her clawed foot. “This goes directly to the lawyer’s office, okay? It’s very official.”

Plum cooed in response, flapped her wings excitedly, and took off out the open window to deliver the letter. Harry smiled and watched her until she was a dot in the sky, then turned his attention back to his desk where the copies of the letter lay waiting. 

“Now, what to do with you?” he asked. Living alone for so long after school had gotten him into the habit of talking to inanimate objects just to hear his own voice. “Best to save you lot until I know for sure they received it. That way I can just mail another copy.” 

Harry grabbed the letters, folded them up and placed them in the top drawer of his desk. He was about to shut it and lock it when the fireplace went off. Someone was calling. He stepped around the desk, leaving the drawer open, to look at the fireplace. 

“Hello?” The voice called, Harry recognized it immediately. It was Draco. 

“Hi, don’t we have lunch in like ten minutes?” Harry walked over to stand in front of the fire and saw Draco’s face forming in the embers. 

“Yes, but wanted to give you a heads up. Luna insisted on tagging along.”

Harry watched Draco’s face for a moment. Why did he think Harry would need a heads up about Luna coming to lunch with them? Harry thought he’d imagined the moment between them at the tuxedo shop, but maybe he hadn’t. Is that why Draco was giving him a heads up? To let him know they wouldn’t be alone? It shouldn’t matter that they wouldn’t be alone, but he felt a little disappointed. 

“Harry?”

“Sorry,” Harry said, shaking the thought out of his head. Moment or no moment, he was with Ginny. “That’s fine. At least this way we can know if we are planning a good party. We all know Luna has odd tastes. It’s better to have her there to tell us when we are getting it completely wrong.”

Draco laughed. “Okay, see you in ten.” The call ended, and Draco’s face faded away. 

There was a creek of floorboards behind him, and when Harry turned around, Ginny was in the doorway. “Was that Malfoy?” Her tone was guarded, wary. “Did he say ‘see you in ten’? Are you meeting him for lunch?”

Ginny had gotten in late the night before and was up and out of the house for practice before he woke up, so he hadn’t gotten a chance to tell her about the combined stag night thing that Neville sprang on him at the tuxedo shop. From the look on her face, he should have left a note or something. 

“I didn’t have a chance to tell you,” Harry started, moving toward her. Suddenly, Harry was very grateful for the fact that Luna would be there. Maybe it would lessen Ginny’s ire at the situation. “Yesterday at the tux shop, Neville told me that he and Luna want a joint party, so Draco and I have to plan it together. I’m meeting him and Luna for lunch to discuss it.” 

“So you were just going to go without telling me?” Her tone told him it did not lessen her ire to know Luna would be there. “If I hadn’t forgotten to bring my water bottle to practice, hadn’t come home to grab it, and hadn’t overheard, would you really have told me?”

“Of course, Gin. You’d have found out anyway at the party. Why would I hide that from you when you would just find out at the party?”

Ginny considered it for a moment, then said, “Okay, it’s just. Whenever he’s involved…”

“I know,” he answered. “I know.” He moved to kiss her on the cheek. She leaned into it and then pulled him into a hug. Harry whispered, “I’ve got to go, Gin, but we’ll have dinner tonight and talk, okay?”

She nodded, then released him. “Okay, tell Luna I said hi.”

“I will,” Harry said, kissing her gently on the lips before heading out of his study. 

__

Surrounded by people and their noise, Harry sat alone at a table in the Leaky Cauldron waiting for Luna and Draco. The din drowned out his racing thoughts, and for a few moments his breathing slowed and his mind cleared. That is until he thought about what he’d written in that letter. Then the racing thoughts started up all over again. 

Harry couldn’t believe he just mailed that letter off without taking time to really think about how it sounded. He’d said things he’d only thought before, and now an entire board of Ministry officials was going to read the way he felt about Draco’s character. Hell, he hadn’t even said most of that stuff to Draco himself. That lovely thought made him wonder if Draco would get to read the letter. He’d said it went to the lawyer directly, so maybe that meant it stayed sealed until the hearing. But then, did that mean they would read it out loud?

“Get it together, Harry,” he mumbled to himself. “It’s already done.”

“What is?” Luna asked, as she slipped into the booth across from Harry. Her white-blonde hair in two long French braids that hung over her shoulders. Despite the cold weather, she wore another sundress. This one was pale purple with little white daisies embroidered around the neckline. As far as Harry could see, she carried no coat, and not for the first time did Harry wonder just how  _ special _ Luna was.

“Uh,” Harry said, the picture of eloquence. “Hey, Luna.”

“Hi, Harry,” she replied, then placed her hands on the table between them. She interlaced her fingers to create a steeple. “So what’s done then?”

“The letter,” he blurted out. 

Her smile was big, and broad. “I knew you would help Draco out. That’s why I told him to ask you.”

“Er, where is Draco by the way?”

“Coming,” she said. “He is ordering us some drinks at the bar.”

Harry peered out from the cover of the booth and spotted Draco at the bar. He wore a gray knit sweater that was very, very tight, but not nearly as tight as his dark jeans. Harry had to make himself look away from the curve of Draco’s arse in those pants. Almost as if Harry’s gaze summoned him, Draco turned around and spotted Harry. He waved and then mouthed, “Be right there” before turning back around. 

_ Stop thinking about his arse _ , Harry told himself. He felt his leg shaking under the table nervously. He needed to stop thinking, so he decided to talk. “So, Luna, how did the dress fitting go? I’m sure Nev told you about the little Stella fiasco.”

She laughed and it was good natured. “Yes, our little Stella has a bit of a temper, doesn’t she?”

“I’d say.”

Luna smiled again. She tilted her head to the side and watched Harry curiously for a moment. “The dress fitting went well. No angry Dryads to hold us up. To answer your other question, of course.”

“Sorry,” Draco said as he arrived at their booth. He had a tray with three glasses. One was a sickly looking pink, which Harry figured was Luna’s. The others were firewhiskey; one neat and the other on the rocks. “I took the liberty of ordering for everyone. You still take yours with training wheels, right Potter?”

Harry smiled at Draco’s taunt, then realized he was smiling too much and schooled his expression to something more acquaintance appropriate. “Hey, it tastes better when it’s watered down a bit. Smoother.”

Draco slid into the booth next to Luna. “Keep telling yourself that.” He took his glass and sipped it, watching Harry over the rim of the glass as he did. 

“So, boys,” Luna said, sipping her pink drink. Whatever it was, it looked like something that would leave Harry with a terrible headache. “Let’s plan a party.”

Draco, true to his nature, pulled a small notebook out of his pocket. “So I’ve been brainstorming, and I think we rent out a place. Maybe a bar, but really we can do anywhere. Just not your backyard again. I know Neville loves his plants, but this isn’t supposed to be an elegant night. It’s supposed to be wild, and I don’t want to worry about someone knocking over a Mandrake.

“And if that’s not what you’re looking for, I have also looked up this thing Muggles do called  _ karaoke _ . It is apparently all the rage to get drunk and sing poorly in front of your mates, so they can make fun of you. There are a few bars in London that have a set up for that.” Draco paused, looking up from his notebook, then placed it on the table, closing it. “I’m rambling, sorry. I’m sure Harry has some ideas, too. Harry, what have you planned, then?”

Harry couldn’t help the barking laugh that erupted from him. Both Luna and Draco stared at him wide-eyed. He recovered from the laugh, and said, “Sorry, sorry. It’s just  _ me _ ? Have a plan? That’s got to be the funniest thing I ever heard you say, Draco. I barely remembered that I was supposed to plan the stag night as best man in the first place.”

There was a moment where Harry thought he misread Draco’s ‘joke,’ but then Draco’s lips spread into a devious smirk. “I couldn’t help myself. I think the last plan you ever made consisted of ‘beat Voldemort’ and that’s it.”

“Hey, I planned out this outfit today. That counts for something.” Harry gestured to the clean shirt he wore, it was long sleeved and a deep green that Hermione always told him made his eyes look daring. What did it say that he’d picked it out to meet Draco for lunch? Nothing good.

“Congratulations, Potter. What will you plan next?” Draco smirked, tilting his head to one side to regard Harry. “Dare to dream. Maybe next you can plan what you’ll order for lunch. Baby steps. You don’t want to overwhelm yourself.”

“Har, har,” Harry said mockingly. “There’s no need to plan when you’re around since you’ve likely even planned out your responses to the conversation. Means I get to just sit along for the ride.  _ Easy _ .”

Draco’s eyes glittered with challenge. It made Harry’s stomach flop. “Buckle up then, Potter. I also thought it would be fun to take a boat out, or maybe go to a club for some dancing. There is also the ‘house party’ option. I can offer the ballroom at Malfoy Manor. The place has been empty for ages, but the house elves keep it up. There’s also my family's villa in France. Shall I keep going?”

“Ahem,” Luna said, coughing into her hand. “I think I like karaoke as long as Harry has no other options?”

Draco nodded toward him. “So, Potter, any ideas?”

“Honestly?” Harry asked. “My real plan was figuring you’d plan the whole thing, and then I could just nod at the right moments. That was about as far as my planning got.”

“What a pair you two make,” Luna said. She arched a brow at Harry, sipped from her drink, and then turned to Draco. “Karaoke sounds fun. It’s settled. That was easy.”

The waitress came over and took their orders. Draco got a salad, Luna ordered two burgers and chips, and Harry ordered a shepards pie. As they ate, they mostly chatted about work, or the wedding. 

When Harry was on his last bite of pie, he said, “This was fun.”

“It was,” Luna agreed. “I miss hanging out with the both of you at the same time. I feel like I only get one or the other anymore.”

Draco had his fork halfway to his mouth, but stopped when Luna spoke. He met Harry’s eyes, and smiled softly. Harry felt his stomach flutter as if there were a million pixies trying to burst out and fly away. 

“You guys always had good chemistry, even when you hated each other. That’s why I set you guys up in eighth year,” Luna said almost absentmindedly. “I was sad when it didn’t work out.” She shrugged and sipped her drink. 

“Sorry, did you say you set us up?” Draco asked, placing his fork down. 

“Yes,” Luna answered, not bothering to elaborate. 

“Luna, you didn’t set us up,” Harry said. “We got together after a party. Around like, New Year’s, right?”

Draco nodded. “Yes, we drank together, and then Harry kissed me, and then the next day we did it again. After that, I ignored him for a week while he pined for me. Then I finally caved and let him kiss me again.”

“Let me kiss you again? I seem to remember someone practically begging me to shut up and kiss him.”

Draco waved a hand, dismissing Harry’s comment. “That’s beside the point. The point is, you didn’t set us up, Luna. I think I’d remember being set up since you tried and failed like four times that year.”

“So that party you guys are talking about. Do you remember why you ended up drinking together?” Luna asked. She looked back and forth between Harry and Draco. “Think about it. Sure, you guys had ‘gotten past’ all the other bull shit before New Years. You studied together, but were you really ‘drinking together at a party’ friends?”

Draco opened his mouth to respond and then snapped his mouth shut. 

“Uh, wait,” Harry said. “That party some guy was hitting on you and you made me pretend to be your date because you didn’t like him.”

“Oh,” Draco said, his eyes wide in shock. “That’s right...Luna tried to set me up with a seventh year from our Potions class.”

Luna giggled. “I knew you wouldn’t like him after so many failed attempts, I asked myself why and came to one conclusion: You liked Harry and he liked you. So, I set you up in front of Harry. I knew you’d do anything to avoid being set up. Like asking Harry to be your fake date and then the rest would take care of itself.”

“You set us up?” Draco asked, then again, “ _ You set us up _ .”

“Wow, Luna, that’s devious,” Harry said. “We kissed for the first time that night. If we hadn’t been fake dating to keep that guy away, we might never have...”

She sighed. “I know.” 

Draco sat back and sighed out a breath that turned into a laugh. “Luna, you are something else.”

“I know that, too.” Luna took the final sip of her drink, and said, “Okay, so party planned, lunch finished. I’ve got to get going.” 

“Me too,” Draco said, putting some money down on the table. He stood up, and Luna followed him out of the booth. 

“Uh, Draco, you have a second?” Harry asked. He wanted to ask him about the letter without Luna watching the whole interaction. 

He nodded to Luna, “I’ll see you later, Luna.” Then he kissed her forehead. She waved goodbye to Harry and then skipped for the exit. She opened the door, letting in the cold and didn’t put on a coat. 

Draco sat back down. “What’s up?”

“I mailed the letter. I just wanted to tell you.”

“Oookay,” he said, elongating the word. “Was that it?”

Harry’s leg bounced under the table. “Are you going to read it?”

“Uh, not personally. Sometimes they will read a letter during the hearing if they think the whole board needs to hear it.”

“So you’d hear it if they did that?”

Draco scrunched his eyebrows together. “Yeah, why?”

Harry clapped his hands on the table, using it to slide out of the booth. “Just curious, I guess.”

“Right, thank you for sending it in so fast. You have no idea how much it will help,” Draco said, standing up. “I guess...I’ll see you at the stag night extravaganza, then?”

“I’ll be there.”

“I know,” Draco said, laughing. “See you, Harry.”

Harry watched Draco head for the exit. He stopped to grab his coat off the coat rack, threw it over his shoulders, and didn’t look back as he opened the door and disappeared. Harry stayed there staring at the door until the waitress came over and asked if he needed anything else. He thanked her, tipped her well, and left, all thoughts on Draco and the letter. 


	8. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s New Year’s and Harry is feeling the pressure of the future like a crushing weight. At the New Year’s Eve party, he ends up pretending to be Draco’s date and then things heat up between them.

Harry sat down next to Ron on the couch. The common room was packed full of students, all laughing and dancing and drinking. It felt uncanny to hear so much joy around him so soon after the war. Harry wondered if he was the only one still unsteady, or if there was something wrong with him like he always feared. He thought about it whenever he had a moment to himself. It had always been something he expected to go away once he beat Voldemort for once and for all, but it was still there, like a rock in his shoe. This feeling like something was off, missing, out of place. 

“Hey, mate. Just get here? Were you flying again?” Ron asked, keeping his gaze forward. He had a cup in his hand full of a dangerously brown liquid. His cheeks were flushed, and he seemed tired. At least his eyes were half-lidded.

“Yeah. Clears my head. Especially when it’s cold out.” Harry followed his friend's gaze. It was trained on Hermione who was talking animatedly to some of the younger students. He didn’t recognize any of them. There were so many people Harry didn’t recognize, but they all knew his name, and they all came up to him like they were friends, and he was supposed to be nice to every single one of them. He wondered if he’d ever get used to that. Probably not. 

“We argued today,” Ron said before Harry could ask. 

Harry turned to face his friend. “About what?”

Ron shrugged, sloshing his drink around. “Our futures. What else?”

“You told her then?”

In answer, Ron took a sip of his drink, winced as it went down, and nodded. “Yup. I told her that I want to work with George at the shop. I told her I’ll consider finishing the year and taking my NEWT’s, but that I don’t want to be an Auror anymore. No offense, mate, but I can’t keep fighting. I’m tired.”

“I understand, and you know how she is...Hermione needs to process. I’m sure when she stops thinking about how it isn’t the plan she had in mind, she will realize that working with George is what’s best for you, and for him.”

Ron’s lips quirked into a smile. “I know. Just sucks in the meantime. She can do the silent treatment better than anyone.“  
  
“I don’t know, you’re pretty practiced at it, too.”

“Will I _ever_ live fourth year down?”

“No, sorry.”

Ron laughed. “Fair. I need another drink. You want one?”

Harry thought about it, about drowning out the odd feeling that was settling in around him and then thought about the hangover he would be sure to have in the morning. “Not right now, thanks.”

Ron nodded, used the couch’s armrest to stand up, and wobbled into the crowd toward wherever the alcohol was stationed. From his perch on the couch, Harry had a view of the whole common room. Someone had taken to pushing all the furniture to the walls so there was a big empty space in the middle of the room for dancing. The ceiling had been bewitched to match the night sky, with occasional fireworks going off for New Year’s. Harry watched the bewitched sky for so long that he didn’t realize that someone had been sitting next to him until they coughed to get his attention. 

“Hey,” Ginny said. “Why are you hiding over here?”

Harry tore his eyes away from the ceiling to look at his ex-girlfriend. She was in a sequined dress that left nothing to the imagination. Her freckled skin was smooth and pale and inviting. Harry smiled at her. “You look nice, Gin. Beautiful, really. Hot date?”

She blushed. “Thanks, Harry. I’m here with Dean. We’ve gone on a few dates now. It’s good for me.”

Harry placed a hand on her knee, squeezing as he said, “That’s wonderful, Gin. I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah.” She looked down at Harry’s hand on her knee and then placed her hand over his and squeezed back. “He’s...nice.”

“Yeah, he really is. You deserve the best. It’s good to see you happy and moving forward after everything.” Harry moved his hand and placed it back in his own lap. “Makes me feel like it’s possible for me someday. Like I can be happy, too, now that I know you’re happy. Does that make sense?”

Ginny’s expression soured. She stood up abruptly. “Are you fucking kidding me, Harry?”

“What?” He asked. He searched her face and was met by the same hurt he’d seen when he told her he didn’t want to get back together after the war. Seeing it made him feel sick to his stomach. “What’s the matter?”

There was no kindness in her expression when she snapped. “Don’t put that on me.” Her hands were on her hips now. 

Harry stood up, a little annoyed. He didn’t see anything wrong with that he’d said. “Put what on you?”

“Your unhappiness,” she snapped again, her tone heavy with the kind of quiet anger that boils to a point. “You did that yourself. You don’t get to say that now I’m happy, you can finally be happy. Like I was holding you back or something.”

“That’s not what I meant. I was just saying…”

“You and I could have been happy together, but you didn’t want that. You chose to be alone, and now I’m trying to move on and you have the nerve…”

“Gin, I swear, I only meant I was happy that you’re healing.”

“Whatever, Harry.” Ginny huffed once more and then stalked off in the direction of the crowd. She grabbed Dean’s arm, yanking him forward. He followed her without any hesitation. 

Harry sighed to himself. “Real smooth, Harry.” He decided to get that drink after all.

After side-stepping through the crowd, Harry found himself at one of the drinks tables and grabbed for the firewhisky, only to have another person’s hand snatch the bottle away before he could wrap his fingers around the neck of the bottle. Harry looked up to see Draco Malfoy smirking and pouring himself the last bit of whisky. 

“Sorry, Potter. Snooze, you lose,” Draco drawled. His smoke-gray eyes widening in challenge. He was casually dressed for Draco, wearing only a long sleeved shirt that had, of all things, a band name on it that Harry had never heard of called Ten of Swords. He wore dark jeans and white trainers. 

Harry looked at Draco and thought about that one saying about how ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same’ or some other nonsense. The war changed a lot, namely Draco. He turned on Voldemort in the end, becoming integral in Harry’s ultimate defeat of the dark wizard. He took responsibility for the part he did take in the war, and was on probation for it. Between that, and the apology tour Draco went on, he was almost completely unrecognizable as the boy who had made so much of his childhood complicated. The thing the war hadn’t changed about Draco was his ability to get right under Harry’s skin no matter what and drive him absolutely mad, even when he was being nice—or at least nice for Draco. 

“That’s a bit much for one person, don’t you think?” Harry asked, nodding at the glass in Draco’s hand that was more than half full.

Draco shrugged. “Maybe. So what?”

“So I wanted some.” Harry licked his lips, tilting his head in challenge. He held up an empty cup, shoving it toward Draco.

“And I’m supposed to share?” Draco laughed. He looked around at the other drinks tables. “There is likely plenty more whisky somewhere else, Potter.”

“Well, I want _that_ whisky.”

Before Draco could answer, Luna appeared at his side. Her eyes alight with something bordering on mischievous. Her white-blonde hair, only outmatched in its ethereal nature by Draco’s, flowed around her like a curtain of spun silk. “Hi, Draco.”

“Luna,” Draco said, nodding at her. “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?”

Her face went from mischief to innocence in the blink of an eye. “I don’t know what you mean, darling.” She twirled a strand of her hair in between her index and middle finger. 

Draco smiled at her, sipping his drink. “I’m sure.”

Harry watched their easy dynamic. That’s another thing that changed about Draco, he was working to make friends who liked him for more than his family's money and influence, which he no longer had. Luna was the best of all the friends he’d made from what Harry saw. They were practically inseparable. Weirder things had happened, Harry supposed, like Harry letting Draco tutor him in potions all year and actually enjoying the time they spent arguing over how best to put a potion together.

“So, Draco, darling, dearest,” Luna started, “I have someone I’d like you to meet. A friend I made the other day.”

Draco sighed. “Luna, you really don’t have to introduce me to every new friend you make.”

“I know that,” she said, waving him off, then turned to Harry. “Hi, Harry. Sorry I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

Harry held up his hands. “No problem. I was just telling Draco how rude it was to steal that whisky from me.”

“And I was telling Harry that there are other whiskies in the sea.” Draco sipped the whisky and winked at Harry. 

Luna laughed, but it seemed forced, or at least like she clipped it off faster than she usually would. “Right, so,” she turned and waved to someone, a bloke who was at least an inch taller than Draco and averagely handsome, if one was into the whole rom-com love interest look. He had brown hair, and a soft smile that he turned on Luna when she waved him over. Once he reached her side, she continued, “This is Ryder. Ryder, this is Draco. He is very smart, clever, and obviously very well dressed.” Then as an afterthought, she nodded to Harry. “And you know, Harry, of course. If only by reputation.”

Harry couldn’t help but scoff at Luna’s introduction. She wasn’t usually that rude to him. He decided to brush it off, and say hello. “Nice to meet you, Ryder.”

Ryder nodded a hello at Harry, then extended a hand for Draco to shake, which he did, maybe for a beat longer than was usual. “Nice to finally meet you, Draco.”

“I think we have Potions together,” Draco answered. He eyed Luna seriously, then turned his attention back on Ryder. 

“Yeah, we do,” Ryder answered. “I tried to ask you to be my partner once, but you were snacthed up pretty fast. Not that I was surprised. You’re the best in the class. The whole school, too, no doubt.”

Draco spared a moment to glance at Harry, giving him a cocky raise of his eyebrow. “It’s a talent of mine. I keep telling certain people that I am the best, but they aren’t convinced.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. They’d just had this argument last week. Harry said that Hermione was better, and Draco practically fell out of his chair as he stood up to challenge her. She refused because she’s Hermione and has no need to prove herself to Draco, which only served to make him furious. Harry found the whole thing hilarious. 

“Then they’re fools. I’ve seen you work. You’re the most precise person in our class. It’s like you have magic fingers.” Ryder laughed, his voice talking on a huskier tone.

Luna was about to say something. Her mouth half open, but Neville called to her from the dance floor, and she whipped her head around to see him. A smile spread across her face. “I’ll leave you boys to it. Draco, Ryder really, really likes Potions. I’m sure you guys will have lots to talk about.” Luna started for Neville, then turned and gave Harry the ‘get lost’ nod before skipping away. 

“What’s your favorite potion to brew, Draco? I’m partial to anything with Valerian root in it myself.” Ryder said. He seemed genuinely interested in Draco’s response, leaning forward to better hear Draco’s answer. That’s when it dawned on Harry that Luna was trying to set Draco up. _Merlin’s beard_ , Harry thought, _how awkward_. 

“Er,” Harry mumbled. He was suddenly very uncomfortable and wanted to be anywhere but watching this situation play out. “I think I will go find that whisky afterall.”

Suddenly, Draco wrapped a hand around Harry’s wrist. His slender fingers cool on Harry’s skin. He couldn’t help the look of shock that ran across his face at the contact. The grip was firm at first, but then Draco’s fingers loosened and slid up Harry’s arm, stopping at his elbow. 

And if that wasn’t weird enough, Draco leaned forward and said, “Wait for me, babe.”

Harry’s whole face turned beet red. He felt his throat dry up and all words failed him while Draco turned back to Ryder, maneuvering their bodies so Draco stood with his back flush to Harry’s front. He’d even taken one of Harry’s hands and snaked it around to rest on the front of Draco’s torso covering Harry’s hand with his own. 

“Ryder, would you mind if we discussed potions later? My date, Harry, well he needs something to drink, so we are going to go find some whisky. Pardon us?”

Ryder coughed once to clear his throat. “Uh, sorry. I was...Luna made it seem like,” he stuttered and then took a breath. “Of course, it was nice talking with you guys.” 

“Bye, Ryder,” Draco said, then elbowed Harry in the ribs. 

Harry grunted, but managed to say, “Bye” just as Draco tugged him by the hand away from Ryder.

When they were hidden by the crowd, Draco dropped Harry’s hand and said, “Eww, you touched my stomach.”

“You put my hand there,” Harry retorted. He turned to look over his shoulder. Ryder was gone, but Harry spotted Luna watching them. “What was that about anyway?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “That is the fourth time Luna has tried to set me up this month. Is it written on my forehead that I haven’t dated anyone in two years or something? I mean, Merlin’s cock. Do I look _that_ lonely?”

Harry tried, but he couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

There was a moment of silence and then Draco sighed. “No, I guess not, but it’s not like I have a hoard of cats following me. I’m not a spinster. I’m just focused on school and not pissing the board off. They are just itching to find some loophole that will send me away. Dating just isn’t on the top of my list...”

Harry laughed again. It was the only option that didn’t include yelling, so instead of being annoyed that Draco had used him to avoid being set up, he laughed. He laughed so hard he had to hold his stomach. 

“What’s so funny?” Draco asked, an unsure smile settling on his face. “I insist that you witness my tragic moment, Potter.”

“I had a front row seat, and it was tragic, Draco, that you pushed off a perfectly good-looking bloke for no reason.”

“Don’t act so high and mighty. I saw you last week when Granger tried getting you to ask that one girl, what’s her face, out on a date. You practically shrank back into your skin.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t like being set up either.”

“Exactly,” Draco said firmly. “If I want to date, I am perfectly capable of finding my own bloke. I may be an ex-criminal, but I’m hot.’

“Wow, cocky,” Harry laughed. He was doing that around Draco a lot lately, wasn’t he? Draco laughed, too. Their eyes met and for a moment, Harry felt some of that uneasy feeling in his gut uncoil. 

Draco flicked his wrist haughtily. “It’s only cocky if it isn’t true.”

“You do know,” Harry started, then lowered his voice, “the whole school is going to think we are dating now?”

Draco’s eyes practically bulged out of his head like a cartoon, then he schooled his expression. “No, that’s not going to happen. No one would believe it. Plus, we all know you’re straight as...well, whatever is really straight. I might be a little tipsy, but you get the point.”

Harry waited a moment, then he said, “Everyone is a bit drunk, but you did have me hugging you in front of a lot of people. And I’m not straight.”

That made Draco choke on the sip he’d been taking. “No. Since when?” Draco downed the rest of the whisky in his cup. “Okay, we really need to find another bottle. _Now_.”

“Are you going to share this time?”

Licking his lips, Draco leaned forward and whispered, “With my date? Of course.” 

That made the both of them laugh, and they headed to another table where there was still a bottle of whisky. It was half full. Draco snatched it up, took the cup out of Harry’s hand and placed it down on the table along with his own. 

“I kind of need that,” Harry said. “You know, for the whisky and the ice?”

Draco shook his head, grabbed Harry by the elbow and tugged. “Nope, we’re going to drink it all and the cups will just slow us down. Come on.” 

“Er,” Harry mumbled, but let Draco drag him toward the portrait and out of the common room to the tower that housed the eighth years dorms. There were a few stragglers from the party sitting in alcoves talking, or kissing. None of them seemed to notice Harry and Draco slink past them and down the stairs. 

Outside, the winter air was crisp, and Harry couldn’t help but think he should have grabbed a coat. Just as he was about to say something, Draco pulled his wand out and cast a warming charm over them. The magic tingled along his skin like a summer breeze. 

“Thanks,” Harry said stiffly. 

“I may be tipsy, but I’m not stupid enough to drink outside in the freezing cold without a warming charm.”

“Ha, course not.” Harry licked his lips and worked hard to keep his eyes forward. He didn’t understand why he was so nervous. He and Draco had hung out alone plenty of times since the beginning of the year. But there was something about the way Draco walked a little too close. Something about the pulse of excitement that hit him every time they stumbled closer, their knuckles brushing. It made Harry feel awake, more than he’d been all year. 

“This is as good a spot as any,” Draco said when he found a tree in view of the lake. He plopped down to the ground, yanking Harry down with him. 

Harry hit the ground with an _oof_ and then turned to see Draco twisting the top off the bottle. He seemed to glow against the absolute darkness around them. That pulse of excitement surged through him when Draco lifted the bottle to his mouth, wrapped his lips around the top and took a long swig. 

“Agh,” he said when he was finished and handed the bottle to Harry. “Bottoms up, Potter.”

Harry took the bottle, watching Draco carefully, and took a sip. The whisky burned down his throat, warming him to the core. He handed the bottle back to Draco, who shook his head and shoved it back toward Harry. 

“That was a weak arse sip, Potter. I’m already a drink ahead of you. Do catch up.”

This was a bad idea, Harry thought as he took another long pull from the bottle. This time he winced as it burned down his throat. “So, who else did Luna try and set you up with?”

Draco laughed, snatched the bottle out of Harry’s hand, and said, “Merlin, you do not want to know.” He took a sip and then leaned back against the tree trunk. He handed the bottle back to Harry. “Okay, fine, fine. You pressured me into it, Potter. Sheesh. Relentless.”

Harry laughed and leaned against the tree next to Draco, their shoulders touching. “You tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.”

“Deal,” Draco agreed, extending his right hand. Harry took it and they shook, but Draco didn’t let go right away. Harry didn’t mind surprisingly, as Draco’s hand was warm to the touch, and soft. After what felt like an eternity, Draco slipped his hand out of Harry’s grip. “Well, you met Ryder, right? So that’s one. Then there was some Hufflepuff named Christian last week. Nice enough bloke, I suppose, but not really my type in the looks department.”

“And what is your type then?”

Draco shrugged. “Not him.”

“Very specific.” Harry took the bottle and took a sip. “Tell me more very specific things.”

“Then there was Luis something or other. He was also not my type.” Draco laughed, and Merlin, it was a good laugh. 

Harry couldn’t believe he’d spent so long making Draco angry when making him laugh was so much more pleasant. Harry felt himself leaning his head back against the tree, utterly relaxed for the first time all week. He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment. The pressure of New Year’s and everyone around him suddenly talking about futures, and the fresh start that the next year proposed for him had only served to make him think about all the things he wasn’t ready for...but here, under the tree with Draco’s shoulder against his, he felt all that fade away. 

“Potter? Are you even listening?” Draco’s voice cut through his revere. His head was on the tree, too, leaning against Harry’s now. “Merlin, tell me you aren’t that much of a lightweight that you’ve passed out. Figures. You can take on dark wizards, but two sips of whisky do you in. Pathetic.”

Harry smiled, but kept his eyes shut. “I’m awake, arse.”

“I knew that,” Draco said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “So I told you mine. Your turn. Fair’s fair.”

“I didn’t get the last one.”

“Not my fault you slept through it. Come on, Potter. Who are the lucky ladies your friends deemed good enough for you?”

“Rachel. She’s a seventh year Gryffindor. Then what’s her face, the one you knew about, her name was Farrah. And they tried one bloke, ironically enough, it was Christian, the one Luna tried setting you up with. That’s it so far. Unless you count both Ron and Hermione asking me for about a month why I didn’t work things out with Ginny. Eventually, they gave up on that one and moved onto trying to play Cupid because apparently I need to be in a relationship.”

“Why didn’t you get back with her?” Draco asked. He shifted his head, so he could look at Harry. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

Harry kept his eyes forward, watching the inky black surface of the lake ripple in the slight wind. He saw Draco out of his periphery, his smoke-gray eyes watching Harry with a quiet intensity. It made Harry’s heart pound faster. “I, uh, well, it’s complicated, and I’m probably going to sound whiny.”

“Say it anyway.”

“Okay.” Harry braced himself to say something he hadn’t even told Ron and Hermione for fear that they wouldn’t understand. “My whole life, people have expected certain things from me, right?”

“Complicated?” Draco scoffed. “I think I am with you so far.”

“Well, most people expected me to be like my parents. Fall in love, get married, be the perfect little family. And they expected it to be with Ginny.”

“Still with you.”

“Well, I thought it was Ginny, too. I mean, she’s loved me since we were kids. She’s beautiful, and strong. I’d be lucky to marry someone like her. But...it’s different than it was before. I’m different than I was before.”

“I still don’t see the whole issue. So you’re different. I’m betting she is, too. We all are after what happened. I mean, look at me. I’m sitting under a tree, in the dead of winter, listening to you talk about your relationship issues. Can you picture the old me doing this and actually caring what you say?”

“I guess, but I think I changed more than she did. She still wants me to be this perfect, idealized person that she’s been in love with her whole life. It’s not like she said that, or anything, but I can tell. The pressure of that makes it feel like I can’t do anything wrong, and I feel _wrong_ lately. I have ever since I died during that battle.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way, but you’re not _wrong_. There’s never been anything wrong about you, Potter.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Take it from someone who's only ever been around wrong his whole life. I know it when I see it, and you aren’t it. I get that you feel...like what you want and think and feel doesn’t matter. You are trying to distance yourself from that image everyone has of you, so you can figure out who you are without the fate of the world on your shoulders, and you can’t do that with someone who only sees you as that guy. It doesn’t feel real, or at least you don’t want to do all the right things just because they are ‘right.’ You want to be sure it’s what you want.”

“Yeah, that’s…” Harry trailed off and turned to face Draco. There were tears in his eyes, his cheeks flushed pink. “Are you okay?”

“I cry when I’m drunk and serious. Don’t worry, it will pass,” Draco said, matter-of-factly. He didn’t take his eyes off Harry, and another tear slid down his cheek. 

Without thinking, Harry reached his hand up, brushing Draco’s tear away with the knuckle of his index finger. “Draco…”

“Yeah?”

There was utter silence, not even the sound of the water moving in the wind, or twigs snapping under the feet of woodland animals penetrated his ears. All Harry could hear was his own heart pounding in his head like the steady beating of a drum. He tried to calm himself down, but there was no use and his finger was still resting gingerly on Draco’s cheek. He moved it, and cupped Draco’s cheek in his hand.

“I want…” he started, then leaned forward enough that their noses brushed. He smelled the whisky on Draco, and felt the warmth of his breath. “I think I’m going to kiss you.”

Draco let out a staggered breath. “O-okay.”

Harry smiled and closed the distance between them. At first, he just pressed his lips against Draco’s, breathing him in and waiting for his heart to get itself under control. He slid his hand to rest on the back of Draco’s neck, then pushed harder into the kiss, and felt Draco push back, opening up to the kiss. 

The taste of whisky on Draco’s lips, the smell of him, the feeling of his tongue brushing against Harry’s lips—all of it sent a rush of pleasure through him. It warmed him more thoroughly than any warming charm could. He lost himself in Draco’s lips, in the sound of their ragged breaths as Draco moved to straddle him. Nothing mattered but Draco’s mouth on his. Harry let him take control and relaxed into the kiss, resting his hands on Draco’s hips. He felt himself shaking, but it felt better than anything he’d felt in a long time. 

Long moments passed as Draco sucked, nipped, and licked at Harry’s mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, and he felt his breathing quicken until he felt like he’d die from oxygen deprivation. A hunger so primal filled him until he just couldn’t keep still. He gripped Draco’s hips harder, eliciting a groan from the man’s mouth. It vibrated on Harry’s mouth, only serving to make him feel crazy with need. He lost himself in the feeling of Draco’s warm body under his hands, the heat of Draco’s skin burning through the thin layer of fabric. 

Breathless, Draco pulled back and Harry found himself leaning forward, trying to recapture his lips. “Why did you stop?” he asked, surprised by the husky tone of his voice. “I didn’t want to stop.”

Still straddling him, Draco took his hands and put them on Harry’s chest which was rising and falling in quick, short breaths. Draco’s hands were shaking. “I feel, uh, like we should maybe revisit this again when we haven’t been drinking. Make sure it’s something we both really want.”

Harry couldn’t believe Draco had the control to stop. If he hadn’t pulled away, Harry wouldn’t have been able to stop what they were doing, his need was too strong. He did his best to steady himself and think. “You’re probably right.”

“I am,” Draco said, moving to get off Harry’s lap, but Harry stopped him, gripping his hips. Draco looked down at him. “Harry?”

Harry took a moment to remember what Draco looked like in that moment in case it didn’t happen again. His hair a tousled mess, his lips red from their kiss. He swallowed once and said, “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Harry took one hand, gripped the front of Draco’s shirt slowly pulling him back so their faces were inches away. “Tomorrow, I will kiss you again when we are sober if it makes you feel better about this, but I promise I am going to enjoy it just as much.” He flicked his tongue out to brush Draco’s lips lightly before releasing his hand from Draco’s shirt.

With a shuddering breath, Draco moved off Harry’s lap and resumed his spot leaning against the tree. “Tomorrow then.”


	9. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes home to find Ginny has read the letter he wrote for Draco. Big Emotions again, brace yourselves.

Harry stopped for a breath before opening the front door to Grimmauld Place. He’d walked most of the way back from lunch, thinking about Draco and that night they first kissed. He couldn’t believe it had been Luna’s plan all along that they end up together. Maybe everyone was right and that writing that letter had brought some stuff up because he couldn’t stop picturing Draco, that night, straddling him with his pink lips and flushed cheeks. 

“Merlin, Harry,” he chided himself as he opened the door and stepped into his home. 

The smell of something burning caught his attention. It was coming from the kitchen and smelled vaguely like...chicken? Ginny must have tried cooking something for dinner. Had he been gone that long? He left the Leaky around two. The clock in the entryway read almost half five.  _ Shite _ . 

“Ginny?” Harry called into the house, heading toward the kitchen where the smell of burnt chicken grew stronger. There was a little bit of smoke in the air. He wafted it out of the way before entering the kitchen where he saw Ginny sitting at the table with a glass of wine in one hand, and a copy of his character letter in the other. The oven door was hanging open, displaying the charred remains of what had been a chicken. 

Harry coughed and rushed over to the oven to turn it off. He took the chicken out and placed it on the stove before addressing Ginny, who just sat silently looking at the letter and sipping her wine. 

“Who knew you could be so eloquent,” Ginny said finally. “Certainly not me. The only declarations of love I get from you are a few grunts about how beautiful I am in the middle of sex. That is when you even bother to sleep with me.” She placed the glass down on the table with a bit too much force. Some wine sloshed over the edge of the glass and slid down the side in red droplets. 

“Gin, please,” Harry said, taking a seat across from her at the table. He put his hands on the table in front of him, trying to reach for hers. She pulled away, sitting back in the chair. 

“Please what? Wait for the list of reasons why you kept this from me?” She asked, her tone accusatory. She placed the letter down and poked it with her index finger. “I’ll start for you, shall I? Maybe it’s because this reads like a love letter to Draco Malfoy, your ex-boyfriend whom you claim to have no feelings for.”

“It’s a character reference. For the probation board. I have influence with the Ministry, you know that. Draco asked for my help, so I wrote a letter. That’s all. It’s just about his character, so they will consider his appeal.”

Ginny nodded curtly. She smiled, but it was stiff, controlled. “Yeah, this sure sounds like a character letter. Let me read you my favorite passage.” She sipped her wine, taking down most of the contents of the glass. “ _ Draco is the kind of man who learns and grows from his mistakes, he is a man who does not bend nor break in the face of difficulties. I admire his determination, his courage, and his passion. And furthermore, once Draco Lucius Malfoy decides that something is important to him, there is nothing in this world that can change his mind, and I trust that completely.”  _

Harry winced hearing his own words read back to him. “I was just making him look good to the board. I know him well. I spoke at his trial in the first place. It makes sense that he would ask me.”

“That part makes sense. I’ll give you that much,” Ginny said. “What doesn’t make sense is why this sounds like a man confessing his feelings. Should I read some more? Maybe the part about how you understand each other, and that he changed your life?”

“That’s not…” Harry sighed. He couldn’t think straight. His stomach was in his throat. “You’re reading it out of context.” 

“You still love him, don’t you?” She laughed and it was bitter and harsh like the crash of glass on tile. “You always loved him. This whole time. I should have seen the signs. I guess, I did, really. I pretended I didn’t though.”

“Ginny, no, it’s not like that. I care about him, of course I do. I told you that I always would when we got back together. I told you that. But I’m with you now.”

She sighed, sipped the last bit of her wine, and said, “I guess I just didn’t realize how much it hurt to pretend my boyfriend loved me more than his ex.”

“This is ridiculous. I care about him, yes. I have history with him. But I’m with you. I’m with you, Gin.”

“Not all of you. I see you disappear on me, sometimes right in the middle of a conversation, or a kiss, I feel it. You aren’t with me.” She crunched up the letter under her hand, balling it up. “This whole conversation you haven’t said that you love me once. Did you notice that? You’ve said ‘I’m with you’ but not ‘I love you.’ You know what that means?”

Harry felt his chest tighten. He hadn’t said he loved her. She was right. He felt sick. “No, I don’t.”

“You never wanted me here. I knew it, but I ignored it. You know? I wanted this so badly, Harry. I wanted this to work so badly that I ignored it.”

“What do you mean?”

Ginny gestured to the room around them. “The wards? Unpacking? You never picked a room for me to redo. You shot down all my ideas about reorganizing the place.”

“I told you, I’ve been busy.”

“Not too busy to write a character letter for your ex-boyfriend.” She let that hang there between them for a moment, then said, “You’re not done with him, Harry, and he isn’t done with you.”

“Ginny, please.”

“Did you ever love me?” Ginny asked, searching his face. She swallowed hard and held a hand up. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I doubt either answer would make me feel better.”

“What are you saying?”

“I can’t do this, Harry. I think you still love him, and I can’t keep telling myself I am okay with only part of your heart. I thought it would be enough, but it isn’t. I’m sorry.” She stood up, tossing the crumpled letter at his chest. “I already packed my stuff. I’m going to Mum and Dad’s.” 

Harry tried to think of something to say, but all he could do was stare at her as she walked out of the kitchen. 


	10. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another Big Emotions chapter. Ginny and Harry discuss their relationship before the start of 8th year.

The look on Ginny’s face made Harry wish he could take it back, but he couldn’t. He didn’t want to, not really. He wished it didn’t hurt her, but he was also relieved to have finally said it. He’d been holding it in since the battle ended, since he’d been at The Burrow recovering. School would start next week, and they’d been tip-toeing around the conversation for weeks now. The chips would fall now, one by one or all at once, but at least they would be able to move forward. 

“Are you sure?” Ginny asked. She sat cross-legged at the end of his bed in her pajamas. She fiddled with a loose thread on his bed cover, twisting it around her finger.

Harry sighed. The moonlight streaming in from the window streaked across his covers between them. “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want to hurt you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to get back together.”

“At all? Ever?” 

There was shock and hurt in her voice, but Harry knew this was the right thing to do, for both of them. “For now, at least, but maybe. I don’t know.”

Ginny nodded. “I don’t really understand, Harry. Things with us were good, or I thought they were. You told me you ended it because you were going to be gone all year. You didn’t know what would happen, if you would come back. I hated it, but I understood that. But you’re back, you’re alive. The war is over. I don’t understand this.”

“The war is over, but I need...space? I don’t know. I just feel like I need to be alone. Just to sort things out. I’ve been running, surviving for so long, I don’t know how to handle this feeling. Things are different for me.”

“I really don’t understand, Harry,” Ginny said, her voice cracking at the end. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Harry took her hand in his, stroking his thumb along her knuckles. “But I don’t want to be in a relationship. Can’t be in one. I changed this year, and I don’t know what that means or what my life, or my future looks like now. It wouldn’t be fair to stay with you if I wasn’t sure about this, about us.”

“I, uh, I changed, too,” she said between sobs. “I’m different, too. We don’t have to be broken up to deal with that.”

“I think we do. At least, I need to be alone.”

“Bu-but will we get back together?”

“I won’t lie to you, Gin. I want to say yes, but I really don’t know. I’m sorry. I really am. You have no idea how sorry.”

Ginny pulled her hand away from his. “O-okay, Harry. Okay, I don’t understand, but okay. Okay, uh, right.” She stood up, fixing her pajama shirt so it hung down over her thighs. “I think, uh, I’m gonna…” She didn’t finish, instead turning to leave the room. She shut the door quietly to avoid waking anyone up. 

Despite knowing he hurt Ginny, a feeling of calm washed over Harry. He laid back in his bed, looking out the window at the moon. Suddenly he was stuck with the urge to go flying, to be anywhere but at The Burrow where everyone would know that he’d hurt Ginny, so he packed his things, wrote a quick note for Molly and everyone, then took off. 

__

Harry was at Hogwarts before he realized what he was doing. McGonagall had offered to have him move in early. At the time, he’d turned it down, but now it seemed like the perfect thing. A week away from everyone and everything. 

When he got to the main gate, he realized McGonagall would likely be in bed, so no one could let him inside. He sighed, tucking his broom under his arm and placing his bag on the ground. He rooted around for a piece of parchment, scribbled a note on it for McGonagall, on the off chance that maybe she was awake and charmed it into a paper airplane. He watched it soar through the gates and up to the castle. Then he settled in to wait, sitting on the ground, back against the stone wall of the gate. 

Harry must have dozed off while he waited because when he opened his eyes, he was staring up at Draco Malfoy. Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and straightened up. “Am I dreaming?”

Draco laughed. “I know, I  _ am _ pretty dreamy, but no, you are awake, and I was sent to let you inside, so let’s go, Potter.” 

McGonagall never said anything about anyone else moving into Hogwarts early. He thought about her offer and realized it made sense that she would offer Draco the same thing, seeing as he was on probation and it would be easier on everyone involved if he was out of Malfoy Manor while the Aurors and Unspeakables went through it. 

“Are you coming or not? I am not waiting out here all night.”

Harry scrambled to his feet, picking up his things. “I’m coming, yes. Let’s go.” 

They walked up to the castle in silence for a bit. Draco was wearing a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose black tank top that showed off the pale muscle in his shoulders and arms. It was definitely not what Harry would have imagined Draco wore as pajamas, not that he thought about what Draco wore in bed. But if he had, it wouldn’t be sweats.

“You don’t do anything like a normal person do you?” Draco asked suddenly. 

“What?”

“You could have owled ahead to tell McGonagall you were coming, but knowing you…” Draco paused. “Knowing you, this was an impulsive choice.”

Harry shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? You mean absolutely.”

“Okay, so I hopped on my broom and found myself here. So what?”

Draco shook his head. “You are certainly never boring, Potter.” 

The night air was humid, warm. There was a trail of sweat down his back from the effort of flying, but he felt good for the first time all summer. He didn’t respond to Draco, instead staying quiet as they walked up the steps to the main entrance. 

Once inside, Draco turned to face Harry and said, “McGonagall told me to show you the new eighth year rooms and tell you she wants to meet with you in the morning.”

“Are we the only ones here?” Harry asked, suddenly feeling very nervous at the thought of being alone with Draco. Though they long ago worked through most of their baggage, they weren’t friends by any stretch of the word. 

Draco nodded. “Only us and the professors. There were some other students here most of the summer, but they all went off on vacations and such for the last week. I stayed behind because of the probation. Nowhere to go anyway.”

“Right, cool.” Harry stared at Draco, taking in his features under the dim candle light. He looked much the same as he had at the trial. A bit too thin. Bags under his eyes. A sort of far off sadness in his gaze, but he also looked better. There was a sort of confidence in his stance that hadn't been there a month ago.

“What are you staring at, Potter?”

Harry scoffed, ignoring the surge of embarrassment at being caught. “I was  _ not _ staring.”

Draco’s lips quirked up into a sly smirk. “Tell your face that.”

“I was  _ not _ staring at you,” Harry said more firmly. Then he sighed, shook his head and said, “Okay, I might have been staring a little.”

Draco waggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Well, see anything you like, Potter?” He licked his lips and quickly added, “Of course you do. What was I thinking? I mean you did already call me dreamy once tonight.”

“You’re so conceited, Malfoy. I was not staring like  _ that _ .” Harry felt his stomach flutter at the suggestion. “If I was staring at anything, it was your pants. I was trying to figure out where you managed to find sweatpants.”

“Sure, Golden Boy, whatever you need to tell yourself to sleep at night.” Draco winked at him, then headed down a corridor. 

Harry had to jog to catch up with him. Once he did, he stayed quiet, stealing glances out of the corner of his eye at his former rival. He couldn’t believe how much of his life was spent obsessing over that man. It felt so odd to think about, so he decided not to and just walked in silence. And despite everything, it felt right to be back at Hogwarts, even if he was in for a week alone with Draco Malfoy.


	11. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry drowns his sorrows. Draco calls and they talk.

The house was so quiet. Harry walked around aimlessly, glass of whisky in hand and ended up in his bedroom. Ginny was gone, along with most of her things. There were still some boxes in the corner of the bedroom, half packed. He couldn’t stand to look at them like that, so he packed them, and placed them in the hallway. 

He felt something as he put her things away. It wasn’t exactly heartbreak, but it wasn’t not heartbreak. He looked listlessly at his bed, but knew he couldn’t sleep even if he wanted to, knew his mind wouldn’t let him. He didn’t feel good. He took a sip of his drink and headed to his study. He might as well try to get some work out of the way so he could be free for the weekend and Neville and Luna’s wedding festivities. 

His study looked much the same, except for the open drawer where the letters had been stored. The older copies were still there. Ginny must have realized they were all the same thing and only grabbed the most recent one. He’d forgotten to close the drawer before he left. Stupid, stupid.

“ _ Shite _ ,” Harry shouted, kicking his desk. He should have told her about it, or told Draco no, or done something that didn’t end with him hurting Ginny  _ again _ . 

He sat at his desk, leaning back in his chair. He looked up at the ceiling and thought about everything that had happened since the war, about Ginny, about Draco. The whole thing was a mess. 

This last year, he’d been convinced that being with Ginny was the right thing to do, but was that a good reason to be with someone? Because it was the right thing to do? She’d comforted him after his break-up with Draco. She said all the things he wished Draco had said. She loved him, and he’d convinced himself that was enough. He was so hurt that Draco didn’t want to jump into their future together that he’d tried to jump with Ginny instead and messed everything up. 

“Idiot,” Harry chided himself. 

Just then, the fireplace roared to life. Harry looked over at the orange flames turning an emerald green and was pissed that someone was calling him. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to wallow. He wanted to get drunk and pass out. 

“Hey, Harry, you there?” It was Draco. 

Harry leapt to his feet, dropping his drink in the process. His heart was pounding, his mouth dry. He moved over to the fireplace. “Here.”

“Can I come through?” Draco asked.

“Sure,” Harry said, looking over his shoulder at the spilled drink. He didn’t have time to clean it up, so he stood in front of the mess and waited for Draco to come through.

“Hey,” Draco said when he stepped out of the fire. He brushed some ash off his clothes. To Harry’s surprise, Draco was in pajamas. A pair of gray sweats and an oversized sweater. His hair was wet from a shower and brushed back out of his face. He smelled like lavender and mint tea. 

“What’s up?” Harry asked, doing his best to not lose his mind. “Something wrong with the party plans?”

Draco blinked a few times, and then said, “No, uh, I wanted to tell you that, well,” he sighed and then a smile spread across his face. “My lawyer sent word. He got your letter and said that it’s going to be a tremendous help. He talked to the Ministry lawyers and they seem to be receptive. My lawyer thinks it might have won the appeal for me. If he’s right, then I’ll be off probation, Harry. I'll be free. Can you believe it?”

“Draco, that’s great news,” Harry said, feeling genuinely happy. “I’m glad my letter will help so much.”

“It already has, I mean, what did you even write in there?” He laughed. His smile was nervous, unsure. He chewed at his bottom lip. “Had to be something impressive. My lawyer was practically giddy when he was telling me about it.”

“I just told the truth, Draco.” Harry gave him a half-smile. He felt the alcohol he’d consumed urging him to say more, to reveal everything in that letter to the man before him, but at the last second, Harry’s senses came to him and he said, “I said that you’re a good man and deserve a life free from restraint.”

Draco nodded. “Yeah, thanks, Harry.” He turned like he was going to step back through the fireplace, then looked over his shoulder. “You know, I thought I’d be on probation forever. I was afraid they’d find ways to keep me there, but now, I don’t know...it seems possible.” 

“I know, Draco.” Harry felt his heart ache at Draco’s words. It was full of fear, the fear that Draco had tried to make him understand, the fear that Harry had dismissed, the fear that had helped to break them apart. 

“And now I’m so close to being free, it feels…” Draco searched for the right word, scrunching his brows together. Finally, he sighed and said, “...scary.”

“Why?” Harry asked, startled. “Isn’t this what you always wanted?”

“You know, it is. That’s the funny thing about it.” He laughed to himself, hugging an arm around his torso. “Well, I have interrupted enough of your night. I’ll, uh, see you at the stag night then.”

“Yeah, you will.”

“Bye, Harry. And thanks. For everything.” Draco took some Floo powder from the sack on the mantle, tossed it into the fire and stepped through.

As the flames engulfed him, Harry found himself whispering, “Of course, anything for you, Draco,” meaning it more than he ever meant anything in his entire life.


	12. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry tries to study, really, but after everything that happened between them, how the hell is he supposed to just sit there and not be kissing Draco? 
> 
> Or Draco is trying to tutor Harry in potions but Harry is distracted.

Everyone in the library who walked passed them looked at them with both shock and curiosity—the unlikely pair of Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, sitting at the same table, looking over the same book, studying together. 

If Harry wasn’t the one sitting there doing the studying, he also might have stopped to stare. A year ago if anyone had told him that he’d willingly study, he’d have laughed at them. If they had added on that not only was he willingly studying, he was doing it with Draco...well, at that he might have died from laughing so hard. Yet, it was happening. 

“Potter, are you paying attention?” Draco asked, likely not for the first time based on his tone. There was a mixture of exasperation and amusement, which was pretty much everyone’s tone when it came to Harry. 

“Define paying attention,” Harry said. He shuffled the parchments in front of him until they were in alignment, then shut his book with a quiet thud. 

Draco stared daggers at Harry’s closed book. “Closing your book is definitely not paying attention. You asked for help passing your Potions NEWT because you want to be an Auror. Did you not?”

“I did.”

“Then why do you refuse to pay attention when I am sharing my unmatched talent and knowledge with you?”

“Got something on my mind. It's distracting me. A good tutor would want to rid me of any distractions.”

There was a nervous pause. “And if we discuss it? You will study then?” His voice was a little hoarse, like that of someone who’d just awoken from a long, long nap. 

Harry’s eyebrows went up in challenge. “Maybe.”

“No ‘maybes.’ Yes or no,” Draco said, quickly. 

“If we discuss it, I will study, but only if you swear to answer me honestly.”

Draco huffed, his breath coming out so forcefully that he blew some of his fringe out of his face. “Fine. Deal. What has got you so distracted?”

Harry smiled, as polite and harmless as he could. “Your lips.”

It was worth it just to see Draco’s reaction. His face flushed pink, then he looked around them, clearly making sure no one was listening to them. Then he shook his head. “Potter, seriously?”

“You want me to pay attention, right?” Harry asked, keeping that polite, harmless smile plastered on his face. It was the one he reserved for angry professors who were on his case for being late, yet again. It was also the smile he knew disarmed more iron-willed people than Draco. Like McGonagall. Draco didn’t stand a chance.

It must have been the fact that Harry threw Draco’s own words back in his face that did it. He agreed with a bit of hesitation. “ _ Right _ .”

“Then yes, seriously. I am distracted thinking about your lips.” Harry let the smile fall away, leaned over the table to look Draco dead in the eye. He lowered his voice a fraction and said, “We kissed on New Year’s and then the next day we did more than kiss, both times were amazing by my account. But ever since then, you seem to be ignoring it. I want to know why.”

Draco’s features shifted from annoyed to amuesded. “Why am I ignoring the fact that we kissed?”

“Yes,” Harry said, biting his lower lip. “Why are you pretending it didn’t happen?”

Draco’s voice softened, and that made Harry’s heart react by pounding furiously. Draco was playing with him now, Harry could sense it, and he liked it. He had on that cocksure smirk when he said, “I’m not.”

“What do you call not kissing me again?” 

“It’s only been a few days.” Draco reminded Harry. “How often are you expecting to kiss me, Potter?”

“More often than that.” Harry glanced at Draco’s eyes, then purposefully dropped his gaze to Draco’s lips, feeling Draco follow his gaze. “That’s a long time to wait when I know what it feels like to have your lips on mine.”

Draco blushed and it was divine. His pale, porcelain skin flushed with pinks and reds. “I swear,” he said more to himself than to Harry. “People might hear you.”

“Then let’s go somewhere private and talk about it,” Harry challenged. He looked over at the Restricted Section and nodded. “No one to overhear us in there but the books.”

Draco followed his eyeline and said, “No.”

“Why not? And remember, be honest.”

Draco swallowed once, looking around at the other students quietly studying. No one seemed to be watching them. Draco’s face was still pink with his embarrassment. He licked his lips, looked at Harry and then down at his book. “Because I can’t control myself when we are alone.”

That was certainly the answer Harry was looking for. He felt the same way. “And that’s a problem?”

“Obviously.” Draco let out a shaky breath that reminded him of the other kinds of shaky breaths he wanted to elicit from Draco.

“Why?”

As if to punctuate his point, Draco gestured to the library and the few people who walked passed them that gave them a curious glance. “They won’t like it.”

Harry tilted his head to one side and let a lazy smile slide across his face. “I will. And I think you will, unless that’s the way you kiss everyone, in which case, consider me mistaken.”

“You never see the big picture, do you?” Draco asked, his tone annoyed. “It’s always immediate gratification with you.”

Harry widened his eyes at Draco to let him know he heard the tone, in fact, Harry was getting a little annoyed himself. “You like me. I’m sure of it after the way you kissed me, so why are you fighting it?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Uncomplicate it,” Harry demanded. 

Draco snorted. “I can’t commit to you, and don’t pretend you aren’t a commitment guy because you are, we both know it. What we did was,  _ fuck _ , it was great, but I’m not that guy, or at least I can’t afford to be while the Ministry and most of the wizarding world still sees me as a dark stain to be erased. I won’t bring you down with me. I can’t be what you want in a relationship, therefore, no kissing or anything else no matter how bad I want it. It’s not a good idea.”

Harry laughed a little, too. “Who said anything about commitment?”

“Harry, please, everything about you screams ‘commitment’ from the moral way you always do ‘what’s right’ to your dating history. You can’t do casual, and I can’t do commitment, so...as much as kissing you was amazing, it can’t happen again.”

“I can be casual,” Harry said, leaning back in his chair and throwing one arm over the back, settling into what he hoped looked like a casual position. “See, casual. Totally casual.”

“Come on, Harry, can you really promise you won’t want more from me if this keeps happening?” Draco’s tone suggested that he was skeptical, more skeptical than intrigued, and Harry wanted to change his mind more than anything.

It took Harry a moment to gather his thoughts. “Totally, I just want to have some fun and what we were doing...well, that was definitely the on-ramp to some very fun things that I want to explore.”

“On-ramp?”

Harry ran one of his hands back over his hair. “Muggle thing. I just mean, we were headed in a very, very satisfactory direction, and call me crazy, but I would really like to go there with you again.”

“Casual.” Draco demanded. “As in we are not boyfriends, we are not going on dates, and no one is going to know about it. You can do that?”

“Yes, if it means I can get your clothes off, I mean it. Cross my heart,” Harry told him, and in that moment, he meant it. 

“If it starts feeling not so casual…” Draco started, but Harry cut him off, saying the words for him. “We end it. No hurt feelings.”

Draco still sounded a bit skeptical when he said, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Harry stood up, moving to put his book in his bag. “Good. How about we go get casual then?”

“Nope, you promised to study if we discussed your little distraction.” Draco’s slender fingers wrapped around his wrist and peeled his hand off the book. “Study now, casual later.”

“You’re a bit of a tease, Draco Malfoy.” Harry sat down, missing the touch of Draco’s hand on his when the man pulled away from him. 

Draco glared at Harry in challenge. “And you like it.”

“And I like it,” Harry agreed.

“Now open that book to page 423, and start memorizing that potion, Potter,” Draco said, this time it was more of a half-hearted demand, tinted with a bit of playfulness. 

Harry blew Draco a kiss, winked, and said, “Anything for you, Draco.” And he meant it more than anything he had ever meant.


	13. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Ginny have a hard conversation, but ultimately it helps.

Harry got back from grocery shopping, closed his front door shut behind him and leaned back against it as if it would shut out all of his thoughts. He felt like his mind was badgering him, berating him. It didn’t even feel like an exaggeration. Not after two sleepless nights. Not after Ginny leaving him, or after Draco visiting that same night. 

There was a noise coming from upstairs and Harry looked up at the ceiling. It could have easily been Ron or Hermione. They often came over without announcement to borrow something, so he called up the steps. “Ron? Hermione? Is that one of you?”

No answer.

Harry huffed once, set his brown bag of groceries down on the little table on the wall of his entryway and made for the stairs. Harry reached the landing and saw the boxes he’d put in the hall the other night had grown in size. 

_ Ginny _ . 

“Dammit,” he sighed. He was not in the right headspace for this. He’d finished all the whisky in his house between the last two sleepless nights, and felt like shit. The headache he had, only just subsided. But it wasn’t like he could just ignore the fact that Ginny was getting the last of her things, so he jammed his hands into his jacket pockets and stalked to his open bedroom door. 

Ginny was silently packing up some of their photos, her face streaked with tears. The box she was filling behind her on the bed. The bedroom suddenly felt three sizes smaller, like it was closing around them, forcing them to face their feelings and the memories they’d shared in this room and in life. 

“This was a good night,” she said, not bothering to turn to face Harry. “You, me, Ron, and Hermione stayed up all night playing that silly board game. What was it called again?”

“Candy Land,” Harry answered. 

She nodded, a small smile appearing on her face. “Candy Land, right.” 

Harry remembered that night. He’d spent almost three hours, along with Hermione’s help, trying to explain Candy Land to Ron and Ginny, neither of whom understood why there was a land made of candy. 

Ginny cut right to the point. “I guess we should talk.”

“Probably,” he admitted. 

“I went through your things, which is so messed up. Whenever he’s involved, I become this person I don’t like. I snooped and saw the letters. I got mad.”

“I understand. But that doesn’t explain everything else. Fine, you don’t like that I helped Draco, but that doesn’t tell me why finding that letter made you think I didn’t love you ever, the whole time we were together. I don’t understand that.”

Ginny made a noise like she couldn’t believe she was going to have to actually explain it to Harry. “You’d never tell him no. Never. If you had told me about the letter before agreeing to do it, I would have asked you not to do it. But we both know you’d have done it anyway. You would have told me no without a problem. Not him though.”

“He’s my friend.”

Ginny looked at Harry for a moment, then said evenly, “And I was your girlfriend.” Harry started to defend himself, but Ginny held up her hand, so he shut his mouth. “I’ve been thinking about the love letter.”

“Character letter.”

“Come on, Harry.”

“I had to say nice things for the board.”

“Don’t...don’t try and make it seem like I’m making this up,” she said. “I’m not. I see the way you are around him. Everyone sees it, too, not just me.”

Harry swallowed once, hard. He felt like his stomach was in his throat. “No, that’s not true.”

“Harry, just stop, okay?” She shrugged. “There was other stuff, too.”

“Like what?”

Ginny’s eyes welled with tears, her face shrinking up. “I didn’t give you time...after. I told you I would wait until we were old and gray, but I didn’t wait. You ended things with him and I just thought...I need to get him now before he changes his mind again. I didn’t give you time like I promised.”

Harry watched her for a minute. She looked about as tired as he felt. “Ginny, you didn’t force me.”

“You were hurting. I pushed you. I didn’t let you deal with it, process it. I was just there, constantly telling you how much I wanted this. Wanted you. And I think, I was just so absolutely terrified that you’d, I don’t know, you’d see him and realize that I wasn’t what you wanted again, so I pushed you, but you weren’t over him.” 

“I was,” Harry asserted.

Ginny smiled, a subtle curving of her lips that was more about pain than pleasure. “You weren’t. You’d just asked him to move in with you, Harry. Begged him, and you needed time to let go of that pain. I didn’t let you. Instead, you got with me and pushed that pain away, locked it up, but it was never really gone. I think I always knew that.”

“No, that’s not what happened.”

She continued to smile. “Yes, it is. I’m sorry, Harry.”

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry. I hurt you, and I am so unbelievably sorry, Ginny. You have to know I never meant...”

“I know,” she said. “You’ve always been this possibility, this great possibility, and I held onto that, but it’s not right. For either of us. I’m so sorry I pushed you. I’m so sorry.” She moved across the room to stand in front of Harry taking his hands in hers. She was shaking when she brought them up to kiss his knuckles. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll be okay, Harry.”

“Will we?” He asked, his head spinning. “Can we ever be okay after this?”

“I think so,” she answered, dropping his hands. “I want that if you do.”

“I do, Gin. You’re important to me.”

She sniffled. “You’re important to me, too. Now, I’m going to finish packing. Would you mind giving me some time...alone?”

Harry felt his heart pounding and wanted to hug her, but instead he nodded. “I’ll, uh, go for a walk or something. Is two hours good?”

“Yeah, thanks, Harry,” she said, her voice a whisper. “I’ll see you at stag night, I guess?”

“Of course.” Harry turned away from Ginny, taking one last look at her in the room they’d shared, knowing he’d never be comfortable in there again, and turned to leave. He got to the door, inhaled deeply, and fought the urge to turn around and say something else. He was down the stairs, and out of the house before the tears began falling. 


	14. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry makes a big ass mistake that he can’t take back. 
> 
> This one hurt to write, so heads up.

Everything hurt. Harry winced up at the sunlight as he opened his eyes. He blinked away the sharp pains from his headache and rolled over the side of the bed. He’d had too much to drink the night before. It threatened to come back up on him. 

With a groan, Harry rolled all the way out of the bed, taking a sheet with him. It was wrapped around his waist in a twisted toga. Underneath he was naked. He rubbed a hand down the front of his face, and opened his eyes wider. 

A sudden, aching realization hit him. He wasn’t in his own room. He saw four other beds in the room, covered in Gryffindor red and gold. The eighth year rooms were only two to a room, and the one he shared with Ron was decorated in purples and silvers. He looked up at the bed he’s just rolled from and saw a shock of bright golden-red hair. 

Harry scrambled to find a trash bin to throw up in. The alcohol burned on its way up. His whole body felt like it was on fire. There was a quiet yawn and then Ginny was sitting up in bed, her bare chest displayed for all the world. There were purple-ish bruises on her neck and collar bones.

“You okay, Harry?” She asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes. 

Harry pulled his head away from the trash bin, looking at their discarded clothes. He couldn’t have...could he? The last thing he remembered was being in the common room, trying to get Draco to talk to him. Their fight had ended badly. It had pissed him off so much that he started drinking. He ended up walking the halls drinking. That’s where things went hazy. 

“Want a hangover potion? I have one in the drawer,” she said pointing to the end table next to her bed. 

Harry didn’t try talking. His tongue felt like it was glued to the roof of his mouth. He reached for the drawer, yanked it with more force than was necessary, and fingered around until he felt the smooth glass of the bottle. He read the label, it was blurred without his glasses, but he was pretty sure it said hangover on it. He uncorked it, drank it down, and waited for the magic to work. 

Ginny, seemingly not hungover, scooted to the edge of the bed, leaning over to grab her pajama shirt. She put it on and stretched. “No one’s here. So no rush leaving.”

Harry grunted and looked around at the other beds which did not look slept in. At least there was that, he thought bitterly. Now if only he could understand why he was naked in Ginny’s bed after trying to fix things with Draco…

“For once it pays to have four roommates who are all in a relationship,” she said more to herself than to Harry. 

Son of a bitch. He’d slept with Ginny. Right after his fight with Draco. He remembered coming to the Gryffindor common room. He remembered their conversation where she’d said everything he’d wished Draco would say, and then she left. He must have followed her up the stairs.  _ Fuck _ . 

“So,” she said. “We should probably talk about this?”

Harry grunted. It wasn’t high on his list of things to do. A shower, some coffee, and maybe a time machine. That was what he needed. He just needed to leave. That’s what he needed to do. He needed to get out of here and find Draco. Maybe he would understand. And maybe Hell would freeze over. 

Ginny touched his shoulder when he didn’t answer. He recoiled from her touch, and when she winced, he said, “Sorry, just a little groggy still.” 

She gave him a soft smile, that didn’t seem all that convincing. “Okay, I’ll go grab us some breakfast.”

Harry shook his head, regretted it immediately, and said, “I need to go get ready for my first exam. Talk later.” He grabbed his clothes and glasses, threw them on as quickly as he could and headed out of her room before she could say anything else. 

__

There wasn’t time to go back to his room and change before his first exam, so Harry headed to grab some breakfast. There were plenty of students all chattering excitedly at the thought of the semester ending. The whole thing made Harry worry he might throw up again. He grabbed a muffin and some coffee, darting back out of the Great Hall before anyone could corner him. 

He found an alcove and ate. His stomach fought against every bite, every sip of coffee. He tried to ignore what he’d done, but it was no use. The hangover potion had cleared his head enough that he was remembering the night in flashes. He’d done this. Followed Ginny upstairs, took her clothes off. That was him. He did that. Draco would never forgive him. Hell, he might never forgive himself. 

“There you are,” a voice called from the hallway. It was Draco, he was walking determinedly toward Harry. 

_ No, no, this can’t be happening _ , Harry thought, standing up. He dropped his cup of coffee, and turned to walk the other way down the hall. He gritted his teeth, and tried to ignore Draco, to ignore the urge to run into his arms.

“Harry, stop,” Draco shouted loud enough that it echoed off the corridor walls. He jogged to catch up with Harry, and breathlessly said, “I want to talk.” He brushed his hair out of his face. It was still damp from his morning shower. He wore one of Harry’s shirts. It was a little big around the shoulders, making him look small.

Harry breathed out a curse, and turned away from Draco. “No, we said everything we needed to say last night. It’s over. It was over then, it’s over now.”

“What?” Draco stammered. He walked around, so he could look Harry in the face. He stared for a moment, then shook his head. “No, that’s ridiculous. It was a fight. We had a fight. It’s not like it was our first fight, Harry.”

“No, it wasn’t just a fight,” Harry corrected him. “I asked you now or never, you made the choice not to jump with me. It’s over. It has to be over.”

“Listen to me, I  _ am _ ready to jump. You just caught me off guard. I’m slower than you Harry. I need time to process, but you’re right. Always have been. I let my fears hold me back. I’ve been that way my whole life.” Draco paused, smiled and took Harry’s hand in his. “You said I needed to move faster, this is me moving faster. I’m trying to keep up with you, Harry. Let’s do it. Let’s live together. Tell everyone. Hell, I will tell Rita Skeeter myself if it means we get to be together. I love you.”

Harry looked at Draco, taking in the pleading look in his smoke-gray eyes, the purple bags under them that told Harry Draco hadn’t slept the night before. He pulled his hand out of Draco’s. “No. This can’t happen anymore.”

“Wh-why not? Last night you said…” Draco’s smile faltered. His expression became darker. “I don’t understand what could have changed from then to now.”

“I, uh,  _ fuck _ ,” Harry said, forcing himself to look at Draco. Harry locked his eyes onto Draco’s, holding steady. “I slept with Ginny last night.”

Draco didn’t look away, didn’t flinch. “Last night? Last night as in the night before this morning? As in the same night you asked me to move in with you?”

Harry couldn’t speak, so he nodded. 

“O-okay, right, good,” Draco said, running the words together. He stopped to take three deep breaths. His voice was shaky when he continued, “That’s...that’s...okay. Goodbye, Harry.” 

Harry clenched his jaw over his guilt, his fear, and turned on his heel. He had exams to take, and he didn’t have time to lose it over Draco Malfoy. The pain could wait, so he pushed it down, down. Deep into the corners of his mind where he buried everything else, all the loss, and promised himself someday he would look at it again.


	15. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stag night: there’s drinking (surprise, surprise), there’s karaoke (Dean and Seamus put on a show), and then there is a little something between Harry and Draco (more emotions...:D).

Nothing screamed Stag Night like Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan singing “Wonderwall” by Oasis, especially when it was off key, and they were drunk enough to cling to one another while they shouted “Because  _ maybe _ you’re gonna be the one that saves me.” Harry dropped into his seat next to Hermione sliding her drink to her, keeping his eyes up on the stage. She nodded her thanks, and took a long sip. Next to her, Ron shook his head, hiding his face in his hands at the display in front of them.

There was a thunder of applause from the table next to Harry. Neville and Luna sat with one of her friends that Harry still couldn’t be bothered to remember, and Ginny, who was doing everything she could to not look at him. Neville had taken to pounding his fists on the table in beat with the song. Luna laughed, throwing her head back and whistling. The rest of the party guests were spread out between the other tables, the bar and the little pit/dance floor in front of the stage. It was the same mix of Hogwarts students, friends from Neville’s new job working with the Ministry on classified Herbology stuff, and Luna’s friends from her travels as a reporter for the Quibbler—the pair of them amassed a wealth of friends, and Harry was not surprised by it one bit.

“This is madness already,” Hermione shouted over the music. She turned to Harry and said, “How are they already that drunk? It’s not even half nine. The night just started.”

“They came prepared,” Harry suggested, making the universal sign for drinking. 

Ron peeled his hand off his face and said, “And you’re telling me Malfoy planned this?”

“All he asked of me was to chip in some money to rent the place out so it was just the wedding guests. Other than that, yes, all him.” Harry took a sip of his own drink. He had also come prepared for the night, having had a few glasses of whisky before forcing himself out of the house. Between his break-up with Ginny which no one but Ron, Hermione and the Weasley clan knew about yet, and everything with Draco, he’d needed the push that the buzz provided him in order to be social. 

Ron raised his brows. “I know who to blame for the bleeding ears then. At least George isn’t here yet. He and Lee will no doubt sing something ridiculous. They have been preparing all week at the shop. I’ve heard more Muggle songs than I ever knew could exist.” 

“ They’re not that bad. They have the spirit of the song,” Hermione said, and if she’d been Pinocchio, her nose would have grown long enough to hit the little stage. 

Ron put his hand to her forehead and said, “Are you feeling alright?”

Hermione laughed and batted his hand away playfully. “I must be sort of drunk because I’m enjoying it, even the off key parts.” She took another sip of her drink, then joined in with Neville and Luna whistling at them. Dean responded by taking a sudden bow that Seamus had to help him out of before he tumbled off the stage.

“So, what are you singing then, Miss I Like Karaoke All of a Sudden?” Ron asked Hermione. 

She laughed and winked. “Nothing. Plus, we both know it’s Harry who has the singing voice between the three of us. If he sang, it would put everyone else to shame.”

“Nope,” Harry said, firmly. “Not happening.” He chanced a look over his shoulder at Draco, who looked stunning in an all black outfit that was tighter than anything Harry would ever dare wearing in public. It looked painted on. Draco was laughing at something one of the women, some red-head, was saying. His head tilted toward her to hear better what she said over the tone-deaf performance going on.

“She’s right. You sang to us in the forest all the time. It was the only thing that helped me sleep when I wore the locket.” Ron narrowed his eyes at Harry, lazy and relaxed. He looked up at the ceiling then back at Harry like he was trying to read the answer off the ceiling. “That song, the one that was all lovey...what was it called, Harry?” 

Harry didn’t answer him. He didn’t want to sing it and sound ridiculous in front of Draco because it was something he’d also sang to Draco. Instead, Harry told him, “If you think I’m going to help you out, you’ve got another thing coming.”

He watched Harry, his expression never changing. He sipped his drink, eyes still narrowed. “I remember now. It was ‘Your Song,’ wasn’t it? Something like that.  _ My gift is my song, and this ones for you _ .”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harry answered, putting on his most innocent and friendly smile. 

“Oh, that’s the one,” Hermione said. “He’s doing the whole ‘who me’ face. You really need to work on that, Harry. All your emotions are on display when you do that.” She took Harry’s hand in hers and squeezed. “Is it because of Ginny?”

They had made it almost an hour without bringing up his and Ginny’s split. Foolishly, Harry thought they could make it the whole night without discussing it, but this was Hermione he was talking about; the woman never relented. He gave Hermione a firm squeeze and extracted his hand from her grip. “I really don’t want to talk about that. Not here.”

“You know, we all understand,” Ron asked. “Mum, Dad, all of us saw that you guys weren’t happy. It wasn’t our place to say anything, but it really is for the best, and Mum says Ginny is sad, but mostly she’s okay. We’re all just worried about you.”

“Sometimes.” Harry sighed. “I wish you guys would just get mad at me. Yell at me or something. I hurt your sister for Merlin’s sake. Doesn’t that merit at least a punch in the face from you at the very least?”

“Why would I do that?”

Harry shrugged and swallowed. He thought of how much pain he’d caused, not just Ginny, but himself, and Draco. He felt sick thinking about it. When he looked at Ron, he was studying Harry’s face, head tilted to the side awaiting Harry’s answer. Finally, Harry muttered, “You’re her brother.”

“And you’re my best friend,” he said. “No one person is to blame for this.” 

Hermione finished her drink, huffed once and then nodded her head. “That’s it, Operation Cheer-up is underway. Ron, it is time to pull out that duet after all. Are you warmed up?”

Ron shot up out of his seat, taking her hand in his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Oh, dear Merlin,” Harry sighed, looking back and forth between his best friends. “You didn’t. You haven’t been… _ practicing _ ?”

They stood there, looking at him and holding hands, daring him to challenge them. Harry thought he was going to die from holding back the laugh that was threatening to bubble out. He breathed in and out, working to calm himself. By the time he managed to hold back the laugh, Hermione was dragging Ron away from the table to the little sign-up book for the karaoke, leaving Harry alone at his table. 

Dean and Seamus finished just as Hermione had scribbled their names on the paper. The small crowd of wedding guests cheered for them as if they were actually Oasis. The man operating the karaoke stand seemed nonplussed by the chaos. 

Neville shouted, “Encore, encore. Bravo. Stupendous.” He stood up to clap and continued on as they exited the stage, stopped to say something to Ron, and then sidled over to Harry’s now empty table. They took Ron and Hermione’s seats, but only after bowing to their crowd one last time. 

Hermione stepped up on stage, blushing. She had her hand wrapped around the microphone, waiting for Ron to join her. He tripped going up the step, caught himself on the railing, and threw his hands up in a victory pose. Everyone cheered for him. 

“Harry, this one’s for you,” Hermione said. She was too close to the microphone and it made a little reverberating hiss. She winced and pulled back from the microphone as the music started. The beat was familiar, but Harry didn’t realize what song they’d picked until Ron was leaning into the microphone.

“Baby, when I met you there was peace unknown. I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb. I was soft inside. There was something going on. You do something to me that I can't explain. Hold me closer and I feel no pain. Every beat of my heart. We got something going on,” Ron belted, surprisingly on key. His voice was a low bass. 

Hermione swayed next to him in time with the music, her eyes shut as she did. When her part came, she opened them and leaned into the microphone. “Tender love is blind. It requires dedication. All this love we feel needs no conversation. We ride it together, ah ha. Making love with each other, ah ha.”

Harry smiled up at the stage. Of all the songs he might have guessed they would sing, that was not the one. He’d taught it to them in the forest for when he was the one wearing the locket. They spent almost a week learning the lyrics before they got them all. Harry only wished he’d known more music before getting shipped to Hogwarts. All he had memorized were the love ballads that his Aunt Petunia listened to when she gardened. 

Dean nodded along to the song, then raised his arms and swayed back and forth. The rest of the party took note and did the same. All except Harry. He just sat there watching his best friends in awe. They were insane, and Hermione must have been more than a little drunk to get up there and sing that song.

“What’s it going to take to hear you sing?” Seamus asked, leaning in so Harry could hear him. 

Harry didn’t take his eyes off the stage, but answered. “About a truckload of alcohol.”

Seamus nodded. “That can be arranged.” He stood up and went to the bar. Harry tore his eyes off the stage where Ron and Hermione had taken to facing one another as they sang, and looked over at the bar. Seamus talked to the bartender, and while he waited, he started flirting with the red-head that was sitting with Draco. She seemed receptive to it, leaning closer and putting a hand on his shoulder while they talked.

“Good for him,” Dean said, startling Harry.

“Who?” Harry asked, turning back around to see his friend’s face flushed red either from the effort of singing or from drinking. 

Dean nodded to the bar. “Seamus. Hasn’t been laid in like...ages.”

“Tragic,” Harry said, sipping his drink. 

“For us single blokes, it is,” Dean answered. “You lucky sods already have someone. And trust me, you are lucky because it is nasty out there, and Ginny is a catch. Be glad you’re not single.”

Harry nodded. “I’ll take your word on it.”

That seemed to satisfy Dean because he nodded once, and then turned back to the stage, but not before stealing a glance at Ginny. Harry might not have noticed if he hadn’t been looking at her, too. She turned, met eyes with Dean and smiled, blushing a little. Harry had to work to keep his expression neutral. After a beat, she turned back around to face the stage. 

Harry swallowed once, and said, “Ginny and I broke up.”

Dean had been mid-sip when Harry said that, and had actually spat out some of his drink onto the table between them. “What?”

“We broke up. A few days ago.”

He gave a nervous laugh, like he wasn’t sure if Harry was kidding or not. “I feel like you’re joking,” he said. “But that is a weird thing to joke about…”

“No jokes. It’s over.” Harry put his drink down, and stood up. He looked over at Ginny and added, “I think I need to get my drink from Seamus. Doesn’t seem like he’s coming back anytime soon.”

Dean nodded, not looking at Harry anymore, but at Ginny. He saw the look on Dean’s face, and it was a sort of love struck nervous look. He had to laugh because if he didn’t laugh, he’d start crying again. He really needed that drink, so he headed to the bar. As he did, he looked at the stage where Hermione was bowing, and Ron was speaking into the microphone saying they had one more song for them. Then the music came to life and “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” began. Harry winced. That song would be in his head for a month at least.

When he got to the bar, Seamus was holding both drinks in his hands, like he was going to walk away from the red-head, but clearly he wasn’t. Harry walked up, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “One of those mine?”

Seamus turned to face Harry and said, “Shite, yes.” He handed Harry his drink and then nodded to the red-head. “This is Luna’s friend from Costa Rica, Illyana. She and I got chatting and I sort of spaced.”

“Nice to meet you,” Harry said. “I’m Harry. Harry Potter.”

“And it is nice to meet you,” she purred, her accent sultry and wonderfully attractive, just like the woman the voice came from. “I hear many impressive things about Luna’s friend with the lightning scar.”

“All lies, I’m sure,” Harry said, sipping his drink. Draco, who was sitting on the other side of Illyana, snorted at Harry’s response. Harry smirked as he lowered his drink and turned to Draco. “Something funny, Draco?”

He beamed at Harry, and reminded him just exactly how much that smile affected him, and any chance he had at being rational. “Oh, just the whole humble hero act. It’s very cute.”

Illyana turned to face Draco. “Is he not a hero?”

Seamus looked panicked, and if Harry had to guess it had something to do with losing the prospect of a hook-up to his friend. Harry reminded himself that this was in service of a friend, and said, “He’s right. I’m not much of a hero, not the way Seamus is, at least.”

She smiled at Seamus. “You did not tell me of your heroics.”

Seamus looked at Harry, giving him the barest raise of a brow. “If you want to come sit down, I’ll tell you all about it.”

Illyana hopped off her bar stool, grabbed her drink with the umbrella off the bar, and said, “I cannot wait, Seamus.” She hooked her arm in his and they headed off toward the table where Dean was sitting, still watching Ginny. 

By that time, Ron and Hermione were done singing, both of them laughing wildly as they stumbled off the stage, holding onto one another. Clearly, somewhere along the line, Operation Cheer-up had gone off the rails because they started making out against the wall near the stage, Hermione’s hands tangled in Ron’s hair. 

There were some hoots and hollers from the back of the bar, and when Harry turned, he saw George and Lee as they entered, hand in hand. George cupped one hand around his mouth and shouted, “That’s my brother!”

That caused a whole lot of ruckus. Everyone got up to greet George and Lee. Harry, however, stayed at the bar with Draco. He looked over at his ex-boyfriend and nodded. “This turned out pretty well. Everyone is really drunk at least.”

“Open bar will do that,” Draco said. He seemed calm, but at the same time even more nervous than he’d been when he stopped over to tell Harry about the letter. He fidgeted with the label on an empty bottle on the bar. His own glass of whisky sat untouched near it. 

“You okay?” Harry asked.

“Hearing is in a few days. All I can think about really.” He sighed. “I’m trying to have fun, but it’s like trying to walk with a rock in my shoe. I can only ignore it for so long, you know?”

“You have no idea,” Harry told him. “I feel like that pretty much everyday.”

He nodded, and reached for his glass. He drew out a long breath then raised it toward Harry. “Cheers to the rocks in our shoes.”

Harry laughed and clinked his bottle against Draco’s glass. “Cheers to that.” They both took a sip, keeping their eyes on each other the whole time. Harry felt his throat go dry under that gaze, but refused to look away. They stayed like that, looking at one another for what felt like an eternity.

“Draco,” Luna called, breaking their odd little staring contest. “Come sit with me.”

He stood up, finished his drink and said, “You better sing tonight. You’re the only one of us who isn’t tone deaf.” Then he walked away, leaving Harry at the bar with his thoughts. 

__

The rest of the night went by fast, or at least it felt that way to Harry, who spent most of it on a stool taking full advantage of the open bar. All of the guests sang at least one song, except for Draco and Harry. Dean and Seamus sang at least five other songs after doing three too many encores of “Wonderwall.” Ginny got up with them at one point to sing the girl parts in a Fleetwood Mac song they did. By the end of it, she was leaning on Dean and laughing more than Harry had seen her laugh in a long, long time. 

Draco kept away from Harry the rest of the night. He stayed with Luna and Neville, laughing and drinking. Harry wanted to walk over and kiss him, but that was just about the worst idea on the planet and he wasn’t drunk enough to be  _ that _ stupid. 

“Harry,” Ron greeted after his rendition of “Summer Nights” with George, which was wrong on so many levels. He sat at the bar, squinted at Harry, and then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “You have to do at least one before the nights over. Everyone is properly drunk. They won’t even remember.”

“Then why do it?” Harry asked, his words a bit slurred. 

Ron considered that logic for a moment, pouting. Then his mouth sprang into a wide grin. He swayed on the stool. “For me, so I can sleep tonight.”

“I don’t think you will have any trouble sleeping, mate.”

“Ungh,” Ron said. He gripped Harry’s chin in one hand and dragged it close to his own face. “You either sing a song, or I’ll, uh, I’ll...hmmm, I will do something. That’s for sure.”

Harry laughed in Ron’s face, pulling his fingers away from his chin. “Well, with a threat like that, how can I resist?”

“Ungh,” he confirmed. “Hermione will know a good threat. Give me a minute.” He got up, staggered a moment, righted himself and then headed for Hermione, who was sitting with some of Luna’s friends who Harry still didn’t really know. She was busy waving her hands animatedly, no doubt trying to convince Luna’s friends to join some cause or other. 

Ron leaned down to whisper in Hermione’s ear. She stopped talking immediately, listening to Ron. Her eyes snapped over to meet Harry’s. She stood up, walked to the stage, and yanked the microphone out of Dean’s hand before he could start up “Wonderwall” for the sixth time.

“Everyone, we have a wonderful treat for you,” she said. The murmurs of all the different conversations quieted. “Harry James Potter has agreed to sing a song for us to close out the night. He just needs a little encouragement. So let’s hear it for Harry.”

Ron looked back at Harry from the table where he stood, and shrugged. Then he started a chant. “Harry. Harry. Harry.” Everyone else joined it, slurring his name as they urged him on. Dean and Seamus appeared at his side and picked him off the barstool, giving him a literal shove toward the stage. 

Hermione nodded at Harry, waving him to the stage. She beamed at him with a devious look in her eyes. 

“Fine, fine,” Harry said, throwing his hands up and heading for the stage. 

“Harry, everyone!” Hermione shouted, handing him the microphone. She leaned in and whispered, “Got you.”

Harry smirked at her and took the microphone. “You know which song to queue up.”

She nodded and went to the side of the stage where the songs were and whispered to the man working the equipment. After a little bit of fiddling, the monitor sprang to life with the lyrics, not that he needed them. He knew this song by heart. 

“Don’t blame me when this horrendous rendition makes your ears bleed,” Harry said, laughing. “Blame her.” He pointed at Hermione who just laughed. Harry steadied himself and started out slow. “It's a little bit funny...this feelin' inside.” He stopped to chuckle at how ridiculous he felt, then spotted Draco and felt his stomach sink. He pushed on, singing, because that was all there was to do. “I'm not one of those who can easily hide. I don't have much money, but boy, if I did, I'd buy a big house where we both could live.”

Hermione cheered from the side of the stage. “Woo!”

Harry smiled at her, and kept singing. “If I was a sculptor, but then again, no...Or a man who makes potions in a travelin' show. Oh, I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do. My gift is my song...” Harry paused, feeling his heart pound frantically, and looked at Draco, “...and this one's for you.”

He sang, never moving his eyes off Draco. He couldn’t have even if he wanted to, the pull to lock gazes with those smoke-gray eyes was like an undercurrent, pulling him under, down and down. Draco smirked at Harry, and all he could do was think about how much he liked that smirk. It did interesting things to his lips, and those lips were already so interesting on their own. 

“So excuse me forgettin', but these things I do,” Harry belted out the lyrics now, letting the alcohol he consumed keep his embarrassment at bay. “You see, I've forgotten if they're green or they're blue. Anyway, the thing is, what I really mean…yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen.”

Draco quirked a smile at him that promised things, dark and seductive things, things that Harry knew would make him beg to be touched because they already had. Harry couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he sang. He kept his eyes on Draco, and only Draco. He felt his body shake when he got to the end of the song. The air between them felt charged, and he wanted to run off this stage into Draco’s arms. “I hope you don't mind that I put down in words...How wonderful life is while you're in the world.”

Harry’s eyes glittered with tears when he was done, and he saw that Draco’s did, too. He felt his heart thudding loudly in his chest. Draco stared at him in frustration for a moment. Then he looked down at his empty drink. He was breathing harder than he had been before, and the rise and fall of his chest made Harry think of other things they’d done that caused Draco’s breathing to go ragged. The thoughts overwhelmed him and he wanted to do something rash, something like kiss Draco until they couldn’t breath.

The crowd was silent for a beat, then they erupted in cheers and whistles. Harry kept his eyes on Draco, who stood up, shook his head, then turned to walk out of the bar. Luna turned and called to him, but he didn’t answer her. He just walked outside.

Harry jumped off the stage, ignoring Hermione who tried to grab him by the wrist. He brushed past Dean and Seamus who were exaggeratedly bowing at him, he didn’t let himself look at Ginny, but somehow he knew she watched as he chased after Draco. A distant part of his mind warned him not to follow Draco, but he couldn’t stop his feet from moving. 

Outside he was met with the kind of cold that chills you to the bone in an instant. He left his coat inside and shivered once before hugging himself. It was the kind of cold that makes your teeth chatter and your breath feel cold the instant it leaves your nostrils. The kind of cold that feels heavy. Harry looked around the empty street and worried that he missed Draco, that he had Apparated away, but then Harry spotted him sitting on the curb, head hanging down, his hands covering his face. 

Harry approached silently, trying to think of something important to say and came up blank. The alcohol he’d consumed earlier made him feel wobbly, so he sat down next to Draco and managed to stupidly ask, “What’s wrong?”

There was a muffled sound and then Draco looked up at him. There were tears in his eyes that made his smoke-gray iris’s look like watery clay. He sniffled and asked, “That song? It had to be  _ that _ song?”

“Hermione and Ron wouldn’t drop it,” he explained. “They wanted me to sing it.” 

Draco laughed bitterly. “And you have no control over your actions? You just do everything Ron and Hermione say, right?” 

“I, uh, I didn’t…”

“It’s not fair for you to do that,” Draco said, his voice a quiet whisper. “You can’t stand up there and sing that song to me, look at me like  _ that _ , and then act like it isn’t a big deal, Harry. You don’t get to do that to me.”

Harry felt a lump in his throat. It felt impossible, the whole situation felt impossible. He wanted to explain, to tell Draco about the talk he had with Ginny. He wanted to apologize for everything he never apologized for, but as he sat there looking into Draco’s tear filled eyes, he said the only thing that came to mind. 

“But Draco, I lo—” Harry started, the last words dying on his tongue. 

“No,” Draco shouted. His voice echoing along the empty street. He clenched his jaw and shook his head. “You aren’t allowed to say that to me. Not when you’re still with...not now. If you say that to me, it can’t, no, it won’t be like this.”

“Draco, please.”

“How dare you, Harry? After everything, and you just stand up there and sing to me like that.” Draco stood up so abruptly, that Harry was jostled back. Draco didn’t wait for Harry to get up. He started off down the street walking angrily, hugging himself. 

“Draco, wait,” Harry called to him.

Draco spun around and looked at Harry like he was the last person on the planet he hoped to see and said, “You don’t get to say that to me not when you’re with someone else. I won’t allow you to hurt me like that again, Harry.”

And with those final words, Draco Apparated and left Harry standing alone in the cold, trying to figure out how to fix things. 


	16. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry have a little study session that gets...serious.

Draco smiled at Harry, leaned over, and kissed him on the cheek. His lips, which were the stuff of erotic dreams, felt warm on Harry’s skin. The evening spring breeze was almost chilly, but not enough to chase them inside. They were alone in the Astronomy Tower under the guise of studying, but the both of them knew what they really wanted to do.

“You said if I got three in a row right you’d take off a piece of clothing. Time to pay up,” Harry demanded. 

Draco rolled his eyes, but complied, tugging his shirt over his head, revealing the pale, taut muscles of his chest and torso, and tossed the shirt at Harry’s face. “You’re a menace.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you finally found a study technique that works on me.” Harry had to force himself from reaching a hand out to glide over the ripples of Draco’s stomach. After a hot streak of getting answers right, Harry had Draco down to his socks and his pants. “It just happens to be the one that gets you naked.”

Draco nodded, his smoke-gray eyes sparkling with humor. “I am going to regret this study technique when I catch a cold.” 

Harry nodded. “But I will pass my NEWT’s with flying colors and you will get to brag that you succeeded where Hermione failed. You tutored the Un-tutorable.”

“She wasn’t willing to go the extra mile,” Draco assured him. “And I think that is best for all of us.”

“Um. Definitely,” Harry said, grimacing. “Hermione is beautiful, but she is practically my sister. I think if she tried this, it would have made me likely to never study again. I am much, much happier with my new tutor.”

“Is that so?” Draco asked, with a smile. “And remember, I am very sensitive, so sugarcoat it for me.”

“Oh. Yes, I like you as my tutor so much better,” Harry said, dragging Draco forward into a lazy, slow kiss. The taste of mint on his lips drove Harry wild, and he had no idea why other than the fact that it was Draco. It tasted like _Draco_. 

Pulling back from the kiss, Draco’s lips were pink. “Super.” He kissed Harry on the cheek once more and gathered up his book and parchment, placing it atop his lap to hide his growing arousal. “Now back to our revisions. Remember three correct answers and I will remove another piece of clothing.”

“Can I make a suggestion about which piece to remove next?” Harry asked, lowering his voice to a sultry whisper. “Because I have some ideas.”

Draco turned to him, licked his lips seductively, teasingly, and said, “No, I make the rules here, Potter, and you will like it.”

“Oh, I like it very much,” Harry muttered, thinking of all the very not studying things he wanted to do with Draco. He started humming the bridge of “Your Song” because he knew it made Draco smile. He sang it to him all the time, sometimes changing the lyrics about the eyes from “you see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue” to “you see I’ve forgotten if they’re gray or they’re blue” to match Draco’s smokey eyes that always pulled him in like a black hole of lust. 

A smile flickered across Draco’s face as Harry hummed the song, and it made him look innocent, almost boyish, and untouched by all the trauma Harry knew he’d endured at the hands of his own family. “Back to it, Potter. These questions won’t answer themselves.”

Harry felt his heart swell as he looked at Draco. He had to admit he’d never seen this coming. A friendship with Draco, maybe, but not this...not this warm, comfortable feeling deep in his gut every time he looked at Draco. It was like coming home, like being safe for the first time in his life. Falling for Draco had thrown a wrench into his plans in the best way possible. His best idea for a life after school had involved becoming the Auror everyone thought he should be and marrying Ginny because that was also expected of him. His heart hadn’t been in either, not the way it should have been. And he had already resigned himself to feeling, well, nothing, and then they kissed...everything changed. And while he was still planning on being an Auror, he felt the passion for it now—or at least, Draco had helped him unlock the passion that was already there. 

Harry’s mouth went dry when he realized that feeling he was feeling wasn’t just lust, or even friendship. He’d felt those before, and this, what he felt, was more immense, more encompassing, and more wonderful. Draco dizzied him, made him feel foolish, free, and understood all at once. He was sexy, intelligent, challenging, frustrating, and the most interesting person Harry had ever met. That all added up to one thing. Didn’t it?

The question was, did Draco feel the same way?

Harry was almost sure of it, but still...ever since they started whatever it was they started, he’d wondered if Draco was feeling the same way. And he decided now was the time to find out, finally. 

“Potter, are you losing focus on me now? I’m practically nude,” Draco demanded, his voice cutting through Harry’s thoughts. He sat there, perfect and pale, looking like a dream. There was a look of tired amusement on his face. “You spaced out? I’m in my pants and you space out? How flattering.” 

Harry tried to figure out how to say it without sounding insane. Did it sound insane? Would it ruin things if he said it? Was that something he wanted to risk? Did Draco even want to be in love? He’d said no commitment, right? Harry promised he could do that. But could he when he felt this way?

The taste of Draco’s lips lingered on his, and the decision solidified in his gut. He shook his head, embarrassed and excited. “I love you, Draco.”

Draco’s face was blank. Nothing showed. Not disgust, not happiness, nothing. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths. He looked at Harry, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed. 

“Say something, please,” Harry begged, feeling like he was about to throw himself off the tower’s edge. “Say something, even if it’s ‘get lost.’ Please.”

Draco finally blinked, moved the book and parchment off his lap, leaned in close to Harry’s face, then kissed him greedily. Their mouths closed around one another, and they kissed until both of them were shaking. 

Every part of Harry wanted to ignore his brain, which was moving a mile a minute, trying to understand why Draco hadn’t said anything. Obviously, he wasn’t completely disturbed by what Harry said, or he wouldn’t be kissing him...like _that_. It was hard, but Harry managed to extricate himself from the kiss long enough to say, “Draco.”

That was all it took and Draco pulled away shaking, his face and lips pink. His hair tousled, his nipples erect. Harry considered forgetting the whole thing in favor of kissing and licking lines down Draco’s chest, but shook his head. “Can you please say something?”

”We had a deal, Harry,” Draco pointed out. “You do remember our deal, right? Casual?”

Harry glared defiantly at Draco and bit his bottom lip. “Yes, I remember.” He crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You swore you could be casual.”

“And I was,” Harry told him. “Until I wasn’t.”

“Now you love me?” Draco asked, his face unreadable. 

Harry bit his tongue to keep from all the frustrated retorts to Draco’s question, instead settling on repeating himself. “I love you, Draco.”

“This is very typical of you, Harry Potter...” Draco’s eyes wandered down Harry’s body and then back up to his eyes. He sighed, and said, “I love you, too. Fuck me, but I do. I really fucking love you.”

Harry’s heart felt like it had begun beating at the speed of a hummingbird’s. He couldn’t quite control the smile that spread across his face. “Did you just tell me you loved me? Did Mr Keep it Casual just admit that he loved me? You love me, Malfoy. Oh Merlin, you love me.”

Draco scowled up at Harry. “You are such a menace, Potter. Always so dramatic. I really could do without the theatrics, you know?” He smirked, and then threw himself on top of Harry, making them both fall back onto the blanket they’d spread over the cool stone floor. 

“I’m going to devour you now,” Draco purred into Harry’s neck. His breath warm, and his words soothing. “You lovesick, fool.”

“Takes one to know one,” Harry retorted, but didn’t have a chance to say anything else before Draco wrapped himself around Harry, pulling him into another fevered kiss. Being that close, feeling Draco’s heart beating against him, drove all rational thoughts to the back of his mind until all he could think of was the scent of Draco, the taste of him.

“Mmm,” Draco said into the kiss. He lowered his hands, sliding them beneath the waistline of Harry’s trousers and dug his nails lightly into his skin. 

Harry growled out Draco’s name, but he wasn’t listening. He had started unfastening Harry’s trousers, sliding them down enough to get a better grip on things, so to speak. He nipped at Harry’s lower lip. The sharpness of his teeth sent a jolt of pleasure to Harry’s fingers and toes. Draco knew exactly what to do to drive a moan from Harry’s lips.

“I love you,” Harry whispered when Draco pulled back from the kiss long enough to start sucking at the spot under Harry’s ear that drove him mad. “I love you.”

Draco brought his shaking hands up to Harry’s face, cupping his cheeks. He tilted his forehead to rest on Harry’s. He breathed unsteady breaths, and then kissed Harry softly on the lips. “I love you, too, you idiot.” 

Then everything went hazy as Draco did what he did best, tore the rest of Harry’s clothes off and brought him to the edge of pleasure.


	17. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry decides to go to Draco’s hearing and the infamous letter is read aloud...dun, dun, dun.

Harry took a deep breath and opened the large wooden door to the room where Draco’s Probationary Board meeting was scheduled to take place. A few people in the room, spectators who often sat in on Ministry hearings like reporters and such, all turned to look at who entered, and a few raised their brows in recognition and scribbled away at their notebooks. 

He’d argued with himself the whole way over about whether this was the dumbest idea in the world, actually he’d spent the whole weekend arguing with himself about it. He’d decided he wanted to be there, but halfway to the Ministry, he’d wondered if Draco would be mad at him for showing up after the stag night. There was a good chance this was a mistake, Harry confessed to himself, but he was here now. There’s nothing to be done about it. 

Harry took a seat on one of the benches closest to the exit. He willed his heart to calm itself down, and ignored the memory of being in a hearing like this only a few years ago. He’d been so scared, even though he knew Dumbledore would manage to help him. Draco didn’t have that assurance.

“As we all know, your honors,” a lawyer in a long purple robe said to the row of bored looking Ministry Officials. “This hearing is to assess the readiness of Draco Lucius Malfoy to be relieved of his parole. The decision needs to be made in not only the best interest of the parolee, but the best interest of the wizarding world.”

“And we also know that ‘best interest’ is subjective,” another lawyer, this one in a deep blue robe, said. He was standing next to Draco, who wore a smart looking pale blue dress robe. He looked calm, but Harry could see him clenching his fist at his side. 

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point, Fitzwilliam,” one of the Ministry officials said with a wave of the hand. He was on the far end, wearing the same silver robes that the rest of the board wore. He had a long gray beard and reminded Harry of Dumbledore. 

“For Draco Lucius Malfoy to be allowed freedom from his parole may be in his best interests, but we need to be sure it will not turn out to reveal a lingering desire for power.” The opposing lawyer, who Harry decided he hated, turned to face Draco as he spoke. “After Voldemort, I don’t think it is an exaggeration to say we cannot be too careful in our choices.”

Draco’s lawyer put a hand on his shoulder and addressed the board, ignoring the jibe of the opposing counsel. “To deny Draco the same chance to prove himself and heal after the war as everyone else would be biased in the same ways that got us into that mess in the first place.”

“How do you figure?” The opposing counsel scoffed. “He has already proven his mailability and tendency toward darker magic. He still bears the mark of that darkness.”

“He was a child, your honor, doing what his parents asked of him. He had no support outside of them, and yet still helped turn the tide of the war. That needs to be taken into heavy consideration. Without him, there is a good chance the war would have gone on longer, in effect, killing more people.”

Harry sighed with relief. At least Draco’s lawyer seemed competent. He managed to answer every accusation of the opposing counsel with rational arguments. Harry was ready to punch the guy in the face for the way he spoke about Draco and if it weren’t for Draco’s lawyers swift answers, Harry might have stood up and said something by now.

“Truth be told,” the opposing counsel said. “Mr Malfoy is still responsible for the deaths of many at the hands of Voldemort. Child or not, he needs to be held accountable for that.”

“And he has. Two years of probation with restrictions so firm, that he had hardly a chance to go one day without a check-in with his parole officers. All of whom agree he is no threat to wizardkind. Mr Malfoy’s Mind Healer is also convinced that he is psychologically sound, and no threat.”

“My point, your honor,” the opposing counsel said, firmly. “Is that Mr Malfoy may seem rehabilitated now, but many of Voldemort’s followers were similarly ‘rehabilitated’ after his first uprising and then resumed their positions with him once he resurfaced. How can that be ignored?”

“It has not,” Draco’s lawyer said, firmly. “On the contrary, I think that is one of the reasons we must allow him his freedom.”

Harry felt his head swim as the lawyers kept up like that for what felt like hours, but a quick glance at the clock on the wall behind the board told him it was more like forty five minutes. Both sides made what they thought to be good, sound arguments. The board stopped them to ask questions every once in a while. 

Until finally, Draco’s lawyer cleared his throat and said, “Consider, your honor, the testimony of a man who fought to save all our lives against Voldemort. A man to whom the winning of that war is attributed. A man who many consider our Saviour. Harry Potter.” He paused for dramatic effect, and some of the heads in the room turned to look at Harry. Including Draco, who seemed curious about all the commotion. He locked eyes with Harry and a mixture of emotions crossed his face, then he nodded once and turned away.

Draco’s lawyer, not one to miss an opportunity, pointed to the back of the room at Harry and resumed his speech. “You see him there, in support of this man, Draco Malfoy. And I think we all agree, the word of this man carries a weight we would be remiss in ignoring. I have his character letter here, and if it would please the board, I will read it.”

“So allowed,” one of the other board members, a middle-aged woman with salt and pepper hair said, who looked like she could take a bludger to the stomach and keep moving. Her voice was surprisingly feminine.

“Thank you, your honor,” Draco’s lawyer said, clearing his throat. He pulled out the parchment Harry had written on and began reading. “ _ Dear Ministry Probationary Board, In the nearly ten years that I have known Draco Lucius Malfoy, I have come to understand him as a dedicated and caring man. He’s also one of the most clever and hardworking persons I have ever known.” _

Hearing his own word read aloud like that, Harry felt a tightness in his chest. Maybe he was foolish to come here. He certainly felt foolish. Looking at Draco’s back while someone read his feelings for the man was just about the most absurd thing Harry had done all week, and that was saying something.

_“You all know me as the wizard who worked to defeat Voldemort with the help of my friends and mentors, and I am that wizard, but I wasn’t always.”_ Draco’s lawyer paused again, very aware of where best to place a dramatic pause because someone in the crowd gasped. “ _I_ _had people in my life who were dedicated to showing me what friendship, loyalty, and decency looked like. I didn’t have a pleasant childhood, but once at Hogwarts, I knew I was safe. Draco didn’t have that same luxury. He grew up in a home that did not function on love, or even kindness. I should know, I grew up in a similar home. A home where “love” was conditional, taken and given upon completion of tasks deemed important by the very people who were supposed to protect me.”_

At that part, Harry saw Draco’s fist clench at his side, and the barest tensing of his shoulders. He turned his head slightly, showing Harry his profiles and the single tear that slid down his cheek. 

There were quiet murmurs among the crowd, as well as the board members. Undeterred, his lawyer pushed on. _ “He was used as a pawn by his own father, manipulated into committing heinous acts under the guise of family loyalty, and somehow through all that abuse, he managed to break free and do what was right without the guidance of mentors like Albus Dumbledore or Minerva McGonagall, or the help of friends like Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley. I can’t promise that I would have had that same strength.”  _

_ “I was lucky that I had people who showed me the difference between conditional and unconditional love. Without it, and without them, I would not be the man I am today. And in all honesty, I have come to feel the same way about Draco. My life is better with him in it, and I am better for knowing him. After the war, he and I grew to understand one another, having been through similar things, and formed a friendship out of that trauma—and I can definitively say that without Draco’s sacrifices during my fight with Voldemort, I would surely be dead.” _

Harry’s face was bright red, he could feel it as his embarrassment burned through him. He hadn’t thought about how personal this letter was, and realized he owed Ginny more than an apology and the denials he’d given her. It did read a little like a love letter.  _ Fucking shite _ .

_ “This is a man, who despite all odds, managed to face his misdeeds, never hiding from the consequences of his actions. He never once made an excuse for his part in the war, and I could argue those points for him—but I won’t. What I will say is, Draco is the kind of man who learns and grows from his mistakes, he is a man who does not bend nor break in the face of difficulties. I admire his determination, his courage, and his passion. And furthermore, once Draco Lucius Malfoy decides that something is important to him, there is nothing in this world that can change his mind, and I trust that completely and so should the board. I know from personal experience what a wonderful man he is and that it would be a shame to not allow him the freedom he so sorely deserves because he has so much to offer the world, if only people could see him for who he is now...not who he was then. Thank you for your time.”  _

Draco’s lawyer waited a moment, letting Harry’s words sink in. The board looking out at the crowd, all of their eyes on Harry now. Then the woman who agreed to have the letter read held up a hand and said, “We will begin deliberations now.” And then cast a charm so no one could hear them as they mumbled to one another. 

In the silence that followed the letter, the opposing counsel cursed under his breath and sat in his chair with a bit of a huff. Draco and his own lawyer stayed standing. They leaned into one another whispering and Harry wished he could hear what they were saying. The other crowd members were doing their best to pretend they weren’t looking at Harry and taking notes. No doubt, there would be something in the Prophet about Harry attending the hearing. He counted himself lucky Rita Skeeter wasn’t there to comment on his “one glistening tear.”

After what felt like seven eternities, the board removed their silencing charm, and addressed the room. They all stood, but the middle-aged witch was the one who spoke. “Considering the parolee's exemplary record, and the assessment of his Mind Healer as well as his parole officers. Not to mention the moving words of Harry Potter, we, the board, feel Mr Malfoy has served his time. We recommend that his parole be lifted.”

There was a surge of energy in the room as the reporters and other crowd members all began chattering in excited tones. The opposing counsel stood, walked over to Draco and his lawyer. He shook both their hands and headed out of the room, walking past Harry. It took more effort than he would like to admit to keep from tripping the dolt. 

Draco and his lawyer exchanged some words and then the lawyer moved over to discuss something with the board. That left Draco standing alone, and Harry wanted to go up to him, but decided it wasn’t the time, so he slipped out as quietly as he could. This way he could avoid giving a quote to the reporters as well. 

__

Before heading to the Floo network in the Ministry lobby, Harry decided to head to the loo near the hearing room and splash some water on his face. He needed something to steady himself. Thankfully, there was no one else inside, so he went for the sinks and ran the cold water until it felt like ice. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” he breathed out, closing his eyes and lowering his head to the sink. He splashed the cool water once, then again. The shock of the water made his heart race, but he started feeling better, so he did it one more time before standing up straight and opening his eyes. 

In the mirror’s reflection, Harry saw him.  _ Draco _ . He stood behind Harry, watching him with those cool smoke-gray eyes. His mouth was open like he had been about to say something and changed his mind. 

Harry didn’t turn around, instead he locked gazes with Draco in the mirror and said, “Hi.”

Draco let out a nervous chuckle. “Hi.”

“That went well,” Harry said, grabbing one of the paper towels on the ledge of the sink and drying his face. 

“You could say that,” Draco agreed. “That was some letter, Harry. I never thought you could be so...”

“Good with words?” Harry offered, still holding Draco’s gaze in the mirror. There was some tension in the way he stood, back rigid. Harry knew he was still upset with him after the stag night, but he was here and he was talking to Harry. That had to mean something.

Draco avoided smiling by biting his lower lip. “Something like that.” He held Harry’s gaze, seeing more than Harry wanted him to, seeing him in a way no one else ever could. “Did you really mean all of that stuff...in the letter?”

Harry started to say of course, to brush it off, but saw the look of insecurity in Draco’s face and swallowed that response. “I meant every word, Draco,” he said, feeling a lump in his throat. “You are the most impressive person I have ever met. I couldn’t say enough good things about you.” It was hard to breathe, his chest tightening with each word. He’d laid it all out, or so he thought, between the serenade at the stag night and that letter. 

“Thanks, Harry,” he said, as if he were thanking Harry for a cup of okay-ish coffee. Harry knew better, the more casual Draco seemed, the more he was working to hide his actual feelings, the ones he would only unleash in private. 

Harry turned, finally feeling like he could face Draco properly. “You never need to thank me for this, or for anything.”

Draco remained in position, keeping a foot of space between them, his hand in easy reach of the door. “I’ll always be thankful to you for helping me, Harry. Now, and back then.”

“And I’ll always help you when you need it, now and forever.” He gave Draco one of his lopsided grins, and knew he must look ridiculous. He certainly felt it. 

“I-I, uh, well, that is good to know,” Draco said, his steady voice faltering a bit. 

It was all Harry could do to keep still. He didn’t want to startle Draco, make him run away. And he had a horrible feeling that it was exactly what Draco was thinking when his hand twitched toward the door. His eyes fell to Harry’s lips, then snapped back up to meet Harry’s eyes. 

“I need to tell you something, properly tell you something,” Harry said, thinking of the right words to convey what he was trying to say. “It’s important and probably…”

Looking into his eyes, Draco swallowed once and interrupted him, “I should...I should go.” Then he turned without waiting for a response and fled the loo, leaving Harry alone with the words he hadn’t gotten to say. 


	18. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry is alone on his birthday and gets a drunk call from Draco.

“Would you like another drink, Mr Potter? Oh, don’t mind if I do. Thank you, Mr Potter,” Harry mumbled to himself as he staggered into the study at Grimmauld Place where he knew more alcohol waited for him. The door handle gave him a little trouble, his fingers fumbling a few times before they made purchase, but eventually he managed to throw the door open to reveal a mostly untouched study. The last person to use it regularly had been Sirius Black during his year stuck hiding away, and Harry had avoided it ever since moving in after Hogwarts ended. But all things must come to an end. There was alcohol on the other side of that door, and Harry needed it more than he needed to not miss Sirius.

He made his way to the small silver alcohol cart near the hearth, which looked like it hadn’t been used in years, and pointedly did not look at the desk where Sirius must have spent a lot of his time reading books, or doing something else to occupy his mind. By the looks of the alcohol cart, likely a decent amount of his time was occupied with drinking.  _ Like godfather, like godson _ , Harry thought bitterly. There were many half filled bottles, all of which looked more expensive than anything Harry owned. 

“Which to choose?” Harry asked himself, running his fingers along the labels of all the bottles, accidentally knocking some into each other. The resounding clinking did nothing to deter him. Finally he found one that said whisky on it, though he didn’t recognize the brand. 

Harry grabbed the bottle, swaying a bit and lost his footing. He fell backward on his arse. He managed to hold onto the bottle as he went down and thrust it into the air as if it were a trophy. “Ah, yes, happy birthday to me!” He opened the bottle, not bothering to get up or get a glass and took a long pull from the bottle. 

“Ungh.” Harry winced as the alcohol burned down his throat. He crossed his legs and felt the old carpet rub against his bare calves. It was itchy, but he couldn’t be arsed to care that much. Harry was completely alone on his birthday. Ginny was off a training camp for the Holyhead Harpies and wasn’t sure she could get home that weekend. Ron and Hermione were visiting her parents, and Harry hadn’t bothered to answer letters or calls from his other friends for the last month. School was over. His Auror training would start in a week. And nothing felt good.

So, he sat alone in Grimmauld Place, drinking all the alcohol he could find and feeling sorry for himself. 

Harry settled in, deciding here was as good a place as any to drift off into the empty sleep of a blackout. The only issue was the study was chilly, especially considering he was only wearing a pair of boxers as he’d spilled alcohol on the clothes he had been wearing. So he’d just stripped them off. He didn’t feel like going up a flight of stairs to get his pajamas. 

“Kreacher!” Harry shouted four times for the house elf until he remembered he’d freed the little pain in the arse. He looked at the hearth and the logs sitting there and huffed out an annoyed breath.

“Shite,” he said, leaning forward to touch the wood and see if it would still burn. He had no idea how old it was, but Kreacher had only been gone a few weeks. It was possible he’d replaced the wood recently enough that it would light easily. He pulled his hand back to see the tips of his fingers covered in ash. Wiping them on his boxers shorts, he set about starting the fire.

Somethings just weren’t meant to go together. Things like coffee and apple juice. Hagrid and any small piece of furniture. And quite possibly drinking and starting fires.

But Harry was chilly, dammit, and he was going to have his fire. It was his birthday, and he was a wizard for Merlin’s sake. He could start one measly fire. The only tiny problem was Harry’s wand was all the way in the kitchen and he did not feel like getting up to grab it, so he did the next best thing. He cast the spell without it. 

By all accounts it shouldn’t have worked, or if it did, it should have been uncontrolled magic and therefore made a bit of a mess. He could potentially burn the place down if he miscalculated. That’s why wizard’s used wands. The magic didn’t come from the tiny piece of wood, no, it came from emotions, it came from the wizard himself. That’s why so many cases of underage magic happen and often result in a bit of a mess like say, accidentally trapping your cousin in a snake display at the zoo. Wands just help focus the magic. 

“Fuck it,” Harry said to the empty room, taking another swig from the bottle of expensive whisky. “ _ Incendio _ .” The wood caught fire immediately, large orange flames reaching up the chimney making a fierce  _ whoosh _ sound, then suddenly settled into a more manageable fire. Harry eyed his handiwork and nodded. “Not bad, not bad indeed.”

He put a hand out in front of the fire, feeling the warmth it provided and smiled to himself. But sitting there, feeling the heat of the fire, memories surfaced. Memories of Draco sleeping in front of a fire, memories of their fight, of all the things that went wrong. His eyes welled up and he pushed all thoughts of Draco out of his mind, took another sip, and reminded himself that he was with Ginny now.

When that didn’t wipe the look on Draco’s face out of his mind, he took another sip, and another until he forgot what he was trying to forget. He watched the fire flicker. The oranges and reds dancing, twinning together. The white hot ash forming on the logs as they burned. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, watching the wood burn, but when he looked down at the bottle still clutched in his hand, it was mostly empty. 

Without warning the flames shifted, burning an emerald green. The change made Harry flinch and lean away from the hearth. He felt his heart speed up, and some sweat bead on his brow as the flames burned brighter. He briefly considered scurrying to hide under the desk to avoid being seen by whoever it was that had Fire called him. 

Until he heard the voice call through. “ _ Potter _ , you wanker. Are you there?”

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sound of the voice, before he snapped his eyes open to see the embers forming the face of the very person he was trying to forget.

Draco Malfoy wasted no time scowling at Harry, and even in ember-form, it was a formidable scowl. “There you are,” Draco growled when his emerald-ember eyes found Harry.

Harry didn’t know what to say, so he didn’t speak. He suddenly remembered he was only in his boxers, and crossed his arms over his bare torso, not that it did much. His throat felt like someone had it in a vice grip.

“Draco, why did you call? Is everything okay?” Harry choked out, just barely managing to say it without his voice quivering. 

There was a long pause. Draco seemed to be considering something and said, “To say happy birthday, I suppose.” He sounded drunk, his words ran together and ended up sounding more like “habbee burthdee, I suphose.”

“Th-thanks,” Harry managed. “But, uh, Draco?”

The ember-form of Draco’s head nodded once. “Well, that’s that. I’ve done what I intended. Good night, Potter.” 

Harry reached out towards the fire. “Wait.”

Draco’s ember-eyes blinked at him. He scoffed. “Why?”

“Uh,” Harry said, clearing his throat. “H-how are you?”

“How  _ am _ I? How am  _ I _ ?” Draco asked. “Oh, let’s see. Just peachy. I’m back at the Manor. All clear, according to the Ministry. No dark magic afoot.” Draco laughed to himself. “ _ Afoot _ . What a word. Anyway, like I said, all good over here. Nothing worth writing home about.”

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but came up with nothing. They hadn’t spoken since the last day of exams when Draco walked up to him, very clinically, and told him there were no hard feelings. That it was better like that anyway. He’d said he couldn’t do commitment, hadn’t he? So really it was better that Harry was with someone who could do it. And they could still be friends, right? People did that all the time, Draco told him that day, then shook his hand and left Harry there, blinking like a dolt.

There was silence between them now, so deep and heavy, that Harry felt his breathing grow labored as if he were trying to lift something too large. Draco’s ember-form seemed to manifest a glass out of nowhere, then took a small sip. It wasn’t out of nowhere, it just looked like that through the Fire call. 

“Wh-why did you really call?” Harry found himself asking. “Not that I’m not glad to hear from you, but you could have sent a card in the mail to say happy birthday.”

Draco’s ember-eyes widened. “I, uh, was…” his voice trailed off and he looked over his shoulder then back at Harry. His voice took on a somber quality. He sort of whispered, sort of sobbed. “It’s so empty here, Harry.”

Harry swallowed once, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. “Draco, are you okay?”

“I feel alone, and I hate it. I hate it. Mother is gone right now, but even when she is here, I’m so alone. I haven’t slept in a few days.” Draco laughed to himself, sounding manic. “I know...I know I shouldn’t be calling you about this. I shouldn’t even want to be around you after what happened. And you don’t have to help me, but I’m not really doing great right now, and,” he paused. “You remember when you told me you’d do anything for me? You remember that right? Did you, uh, did you mean that?”

Harry’s tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He swallowed, trying to keep his voice from cracking when he spoke. “Yes, I meant it.”

“Ev-even now?” Draco asked, his voice a whisper. There was a sniffle and then Draco added, “Even after everything.”

“Yes.”

Draco let out a shaky breath. “I guess, uh, I just really needed my friend. And you, you were my friend before we were ever, you know, and we said we could still be friends, right? I just needed you tonight. I need a friend.”

Harry closed his eyes, fighting back his tears. “I can come through, or you can come here.” Harry paused and said more firmly, “Come here, Draco.”

There was a shuffling noise and then Draco’s face came through the flames, revealing a tear-streaked pale face. Once he was all the way through, Harry took a hard look at him and decided he looked worse than he had after the war, after the trial. There were purple bags under his eyes, a light dusting of white-blonde scruff along his jaw. The clothes he wore were baggy and unkept. His hair was slicked back, but not stylishly. It looked like he hadn’t showered in a few days. 

Draco ran a hand through his greasy hair. “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” Harry said, stumbling to his feet. He was still drunk, so he used the mantle to steady himself. 

“Nice boxers,” Draco snorted. He wiped some tears away with the back of his hand. Some people are pretty criers. They look like tragic movie stars with glistening tears, but Draco was not one of them. Sure he looked good if he was tearing up, but this wasn’t that. He’d been sobbing before he called Harry. The kind of sobbing that made a mess of your face. His pale cheeks were blotchy and there was a little snot under his nose. His smoke-gray eyes looked brighter from all the red lines in his bloodshot eyes.

Harry looked down at his boxers, ignoring how his body reacted to being alone with Draco. His boxers were an aggressive orange with Quidditch gear on them in patterns. It had been a present from Ron for his birthday. They’d arrived that morning. “I, uh, they were a present.”

“Ron?” Draco asked, his voice sounding steadier than it had before. He raked his gaze up Harry’s bare torso to meet his eyes. There was a flicker of something there, then he looked away.

“How’d you guess?” Harry asked with a chuckle. Any lingering feeling of being drunk felt like it had been zapped out of him. Sure his head was still swimming, but he wasn’t sure it was the alcohol anymore. “He means well.”

Draco closed his eyes, took a quivering breath, and said, “Yeah. He does.”

“So, uh, do you want something to eat?” Harry asked, hoping for something to focus on beside the sinking feeling in his stomach at the sight of Draco. “I was thinking of heating up some popcorn when you called.”

Draco laughed, wiped under his nose with the sleeve of his shirt and said, “I drank the Manor dry. That sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Harry gave Draco a lopsided smile. “I was also thinking of grabbing some chocolates from the fridge.”

“Okay,” Draco said, suddenly serious, “ _ that _ is the best idea you’ve ever had.”

__

Popcorn was popping in the foil bag on the stove. Draco sat on the counter near Harry, his feet which were in fluffy slippers, kicked back and forth the way a child’s would. The smell of butter filled the kitchen, and Harry felt steadier. It helped to focus on something normal, something that didn’t remind him that he and Draco used to be...well, what they’d been.

It also helped that Harry had run up, well staggered really, to his room to grab pajamas. Being practically naked in his house alone was one thing, it was another to stay that way when your ex showed up drunk.

“Like what you’ve done with the place,” Draco said. His voice dripped with sarcasm. He idly picked at the hem of his oversized shirt. “Very gothic meets... _ gothic _ .”

Harry chuckled, shuffling the popcorn over the burner. “It’s a bit grim, isn’t it? I plan on remodeling some stuff this summer. Maybe get rid of that doom and gloom feeling.”

“Good luck with that.” Draco titled his head to the side and watched Harry move the bag around so the kernels popped evenly. “Wizarding houses have a personality. The house might not let you redecorate.”

“Guess we will see.” There were small pops as the kernels expanded. The popcorn was almost ready. Harry nodded at the fridge. “Grab the chocolates. And some water.”

“Bossy much,” Draco said, but hopped off the counter and headed to the fridge. He stuck his head in for a moment and there were a few banging noises before he emerged with two bottles of water and the bag of chocolates. Draco held up the dark purple plastic bag. “Dove? What are these?”

“Chocolates.” Harry found himself laughing at the confused look plastered across Draco’s face. “Muggles make them.”

He scrunched his nose at the bag. “Are they any good?”

“Try one and see,” Harry prompted him. The popcorn was done, so he removed it from the heat and opened the cabinet next to the oven to grab a bowl. As he fumbled for the right bowl, he heard the crinkle of foil and then the soft  _ hmmm  _ as Draco ate the dark chocolate.

Draco gave him an annoyed look when Harry resurfaced with the bowl. “You’ve known about these the whole time and never told me about them?” Draco held up the empty foil and added, “There are prophecies inside.”

Harry laughed, and Merlin it felt like tonight was the first time he’d laughed in weeks. He leaned over the stove as he opened the popcorn container. Steam rose out and he let it cool for a moment before pouring the contents in the bowl. “They aren’t prophecies. Just little messages. What’s yours say?”

“Sleep late tomorrow,” Draco said, curiously. “How is that not a prophecy? It is telling me to sleep late tomorrow. Must mean something bad happens in the morning and that I should sleep through it.”

“Toss me one,” Harry said, laughter still on his lips. He held up a hand and caught the small foil-wrapped chocolate. He opened it, popped the chocolate in his mouth and read his message. It made his heart flutter.  _ Don’t waste time. Sweep them off their feet _ . Stupid chocolates.

“Well?” Draco asked expectantly. “What’s your prophecy then?”

“Stay up until the sun rises,” Harry lied, crumpling the foil and putting it in his pajama pocket. “Let’s go sit in the sitting room. I put in a TV, so we can watch something while we munch.”

“Ours are in opposition. Maybe they don’t have a very good prophet working for them,” Draco ignored Harry for a moment as he considered it, then a sly smile spread across his face as he said, “Can we watch  _ it _ ?”

“Mmph,” Harry sighed. “Fine. We can watch  _ Titanic _ . But you do know there are other movies out there, right?”

That earned Harry a shoulder shrug. “I like that movie.”

A few weeks ago, Harry couldn’t have pictured sitting with Draco and it being...okay. He knew he’d done damage when he got back with Ginny. They’d spent the last week of school avoiding one another, glaring across the room anytime they happened to be in the same place at the same time. But then Draco had approached him, said no hard feelings, and Harry believed they could really be friends again despite it all. Then they didn’t speak, not once, until tonight when Draco drunk Fire called him.

Harry looked up to see Draco leaning forward on the couch, totally engrossed in the movie. He shoveled handfuls of popcorn into his mouth, not bothering to pick up the pieces that didn’t make it in. There was a little pile forming in his lap. 

On the cushion between them were a dozen chocolate wrappers. Every one of them that Draco opened, he scoffed at and said, “Prophecy my arse” and then popped the chocolate in his mouth. 

They didn’t say much as the movie played, and Harry found it comforting in a way he hadn’t realized he missed. It’s like not realizing how much you need the sun until the dead of winter when all you want is one glimpse of the sun from behind those gray clouds. 

Harry—full of popcorn, chocolate and alcohol—felt himself growing drowsy and didn’t fight the sleep he knew would come. Instead, he pulled the blanket off the back of the couch, draped it over his lap and curled up to rest his head on the armrest. 

“Selfish,” Draco said, grabbing the edge of the blanket and tugging it until Harry let him have enough to cover his lap. He pushed the chocolate wrappers to the floor as he did so, and Harry had to chuckle. But there was something nagging at Harry, some reason he shouldn’t do this, but he ignored it when he felt Draco move his scrunched up legs to lie across his lap. He felt warm, and let sleep drag him away. 

__

Morning light streaked in from the entrance of the sitting room, and birds chirped. Harry felt groggy, like his head was made of cotton balls. He blinked a few times until the world came into view. His glasses sat askew on his face, so he adjusted them. His mouth felt gross, like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in weeks. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to rid himself of the rancid taste.

There was a slight movement under his feet. A chest rising and falling. Harry craned his neck around to see Draco asleep. He was still sitting up, mostly. His head resting on the back of the couch in a position, that no doubt, would leave him with a sore neck. Harry’s legs were draped across his lap. One of Draco’s slender hands gripped his ankle under the covers. 

Despite everything, the sight made a smile play at the corner of his mouth. That is until he looked at the doorway and saw Ginny watching them. She had her arms crossed. Her overnight bag on the floor next to her feet. She huffed a breath and nodded towards the kitchen. 

Harry’s heart pounded in his chest. He didn’t want to wake Draco, so he moved as slowly and quietly as he could, extricating himself from the light grip of Draco’s fingers, then sliding off the couch. He padded across the room. When he reached the doorway, he looked back at Draco and sighed, then went to Ginny in the kitchen. She was already casting a silencing charm. He felt the magic fall over him as he entered. 

“What is going on?” She asked. “Are you...did you sleep with him?” She did her best to sound steady, but her face was red from the effort it took to keep from yelling. “Well? Did you fuck him, Harry?”

“God, no.” Harry crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “He called to wish me a happy birthday and since I was alone on my birthday, I invited him to watch a movie. That is it. I told you he and I would still be friends.”

She gave him a look that screamed ‘seriously’ and said, “You know how this looks right? I came back for your birthday. We’re together, Harry. I wasn’t going to miss your birthday. I found a way out of practice. Then I come here to see you cuddled up with your ex? What am I supposed to think?”

“I’m sorry, Gin,” he said. 

She chewed at her bottom lip and said, “I don’t want you seeing him like this anymore, Harry.” 

“What?” Harry asked and couldn’t keep the anger out of his voice.

“Not alone like this. With our friends, fine. Out to a restaurant. But not just you and him, cuddling on a couch. I can’t handle that. Not after the last year.”

Harry sighed, but said, “Okay. Fine.”

There was a noise at the entrance to the kitchen. Ginny looked over Harry’s shoulder at the noise and gritted her teeth. She turned on her heel and exited the kitchen, pushing past Draco, who stood there looking confused and vulnerable.

“I should…” Draco trailed off.

“Yeah,” Harry said. “Yeah, you should.”

“Thanks, Harry. For being there.” He nodded once, then turned and headed back towards the sitting room. Harry didn’t move until he was sure Draco was gone, and then he ran for the bathroom. He barely made it before he retched. 


	19. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a lot to be sorry about and he finally apologizes to Draco.

Surrounded by his friends and their noise, Harry sat quiet. The din drowned out his racing thoughts, and for a few moments his breathing slowed and his mind cleared. He hadn’t seen Draco since the hearing, and though he’d drafted about ten different letters and stood in front of his fireplace to call him, Harry never pulled the trigger. He was too afraid. 

Word had gotten out that Harry and Ginny broke up, and before the end of the week, all of his friends had gotten in touch to see how he was fairing, giving him knowing looks and pointedly not asking about the Draco of it all. He probably had his little confession to Dean at the stag night to thank for that. Not that he was upset that people knew, but he’d wanted to be the one to tell Draco. He should have been the one to tell Draco. 

The fact that Draco must know now, and still hadn’t reached out to Harry made him worry that he’d been reading all those moments wrong. The whole month had been full of them and Harry agonized over it. The lingering looks when they were getting their tuxedos fitted, the moment after the hearing where Harry had been almost certain Draco wanted to kiss him.

All Harry could do was try to stop thinking about Draco. And since that wasn’t possible, he needed to at least try and focus on something else. Like his friend's wedding rehearsal. 

The restaurant was too fancy for Harry’s tastes, and it had an unpronounceable name that he hadn’t even bothered to try and remember. The room Neville’s grandma rented out was a small banquette-esque room. The walls were papered in a deep red that contrasted nicely with the white all around the room, from the bright dangling lights, to the accented wall decorations and then tablecloths on the long tables. The main table stood at the front of the room for Neville, Luna, and their immediate families. Then in front of that table there were two tables placed parallel, to form a U-shape, for the other guests so they could all see one another. 

Harry sat with Ron, Hermione, George, Lee and some of Luna’s friends and their significant others. At the other table, Ginny sat next to Dean and Seamus, and some family members. There was an empty seat at that table that should have been occupied by a striking blonde man named Draco Malfoy, but he’d been nowhere to be seen though the practice run at the small church, and was still a no show for the dinner. 

_ There was nothing wrong with asking about him _ , Harry tried to convince himself. Draco was the man of honor. It was odd that he not be there, but even with that sound logic, he couldn’t make himself ask about Draco. Harry rolled it over in his mind, wondering if it was because of him. If Draco hadn’t shown up because Harry was there.

As everyone ate and had conversation, Harry just watched the door at the back of the hall. The food on his plate stayed untouched, which was a waste because it smelled delicious even though Harry wasn’t sure what it was, and he wasn’t going to ask. He learned the hard way that in order to enjoy fancy food, he had to make sure he never heard anyone say what it was...or else he’d never eat it. 

When the door to the banquet hall opened and Draco came in, Harry felt his heart skip a beat. He’d been sure Draco would be a no show, and had decided he was finally going to call him when he got home and set things straight. Tell Draco how he felt.

And now he was there looking practically edible in a tight fitting suit. 

Draco scanned the room, met eyes with Harry and blinked a few times to hide his apprehension. He headed straight for the main table and whispered something to Luna. She nodded in understanding and pointed to the empty seat, which was almost directly across from Harry. 

“You okay?” Ron leaned in to whisper between bites of his fancy whatever it was, and added, “With everything, I mean. You haven’t touched your food.”

Harry smiled. “Of course.” He took up his fork and pushed some of the food around, trying to look interested in eating.

Hermione leaned over to look past Ron and shout-whispered, “Liar.”

Ron coughed on his bite of food. “Merlin, ‘Mione. You scared me.” He pounded his chest, took a sip of his wine, and swallowed. “She’s right though. You are a liar.”

“I’m fine. I swear.” Harry offered up what he hoped was a happy smile, but based on the grimace Hermione gave him, he knew he failed. “Fine, I have a few things on my mind, okay? Happy?”

Hermione grinned wolfishly at Harry. “Is one of those things a certain attractive blonde who walked in late?” She picked up a forkful of her food and shoved it in her mouth, arching an eyebrow at Harry.

“And is the other a certain sister of mine?” Ron asked. 

Harry shook his head. He had a pair of the most relentless friends on the planet. “Is she...I mean, how is she?”

“Honestly, better than I’ve seen her in ages,” answered Ron, sipping from his wine glass. “I’m not saying that to be hurtful, Harry, but I think you both were clinging so hard to something that wasn’t there anymore, and it made you both miserable.”

Harry knew his friend was right, but it still stung. That he’d kept Ginny so unhappy for the last year, it made his heart ache. “How come I didn’t realize it? If it was so obvious to you guys, why didn’t I see it?”

“Harry, we tried telling you a few times, but you always shut us down saying you were happy” Hermione said, softly. “You sort of have a tendency to get tunnel vision. It takes something staring you in the face for you to realize what it is. On top of that, how much time did you and Ginny actually spend together this last year? Between her practice schedule and your training. It can’t have been much. Hard to notice problems when you’re never around them.”

_ Stupid, stupid _ . She was also right. He was slower on the uptake than most, but even still, he felt like he should have seen Ginny’s unhappiness sooner. Hell, he should have seen his own sooner, shouldn’t he? 

“I think,” Ron said, “that you need to talk to Draco.”

“We read the papers,” Hermione told Harry, “they printed some of the character letter you wrote, and it was a bit of a love letter. I can’t imagine hearing that in open court. It’s practically the plot of a rom-com. Have you talked to him since then?”

Harry sighed. “No, I tried after the hearing, but he said he had to go.”

“I can’t blame him.” Hermione said, which was as close as she would come to telling Harry he was an idiot. She had no problem explaining his mistakes to him, but she never called him names. 

“Me either,” Ron agreed. 

“I tried to call him all week, but what do I even say?” Harry asked, his head spinning. He chanced a look over at Draco, who was watching Harry. When he saw Harry spot him, he looked away. 

“You could start with ‘I’m sorry,’” Ron told Harry, whispering so no one else could hear. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezed. “He needs to hear it, I’d expect. And then take it from there. That’s all you can do.”

_ That was a novel idea _ , Harry thought bitterly. He’d never really told Draco he was sorry for sleeping with Ginny the same night they’d fought about their futures. He’d felt so guilty, that it was easier to just ignore it and move on with Ginny. Cut ties, and pretend nothing happened. But he couldn’t do that anymore, not if he wanted Draco back. 

And, Merlin, did he want Draco back. Bad.

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Ron and Hermione had made their point, and now left Harry to think it over. The first step was apologizing to Draco, and then what? He still ignored his food, but took small sips of his wine as he tried to be less obvious about looking at Draco.

__

“Were you planning on sneaking out?” Harry asked, startling Draco. It didn’t matter how many times Harry saw Draco; he was still stunning. 

“No, of course not,” Draco said, and it was an obvious lie. He’d left the banquet hall under the guise of needing the loo, and headed straight for the coat check. It was there, coat in hand, that Harry had caught up with him. 

Harry eyed the coat draped over Draco’s arm. “Mmm, I too, often grab my coat from the coat check just to hold it. No intention of leaving, of course. I just like to make sure it’s still there in the middle of the meal.” 

Draco laughed nervously. “I needed some air.”

“Can I join you?” Harry asked, handing his ticket to the coat check attendant. She handed him his coat. 

“Of course,” Draco said, sweeping his coat around his shoulders in one swift move, avoiding eye contact as he did.

They stepped out into the cold December night. Snow had begun to fall in a light flurry overhead. It didn’t stick to the ground, instead melting as it hit the sidewalk. They walked silently to the side of the building where they found shelter from the winds in an alleyway. 

“Mm, air,” Harry said to break the tension. “It’s fine that it’s cold. Totally not freezing my bollocks off over here.”

“Wonderful image.” Draco laughed, his eyes closed. A few snowflakes gathered on his lashes. He pulled his coat closed around his torso, not bothering with the buttons. But he’d pulled a scarf out of one pocket and wrapped it around his neck in an effortless motion. 

“So, uh, I need to say something to you,” Harry started, feeling his throat go dry. “I’ve been trying to say it since, Merlin, since forever.”

Draco hugged himself tighter, not saying anything. He lifted his eyes to meet Harry’s, and there was an uncertainty in those smoke-gray eyes. The cold wind turning his cheeks pink. Harry had to keep his hands clenched into fists to keep from wrapping them around Draco. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry told him, saying it quickly before he could chicken out. “I hurt you and I never acknowledged it. I’m sorry, Draco, for sleeping with Ginny, for rushing you...for it all. I should have said it sooner. I should have told you that night you came through on my birthday, but I couldn’t find the words, and I should have said it a million times since.”

Draco watched Harry in silence. His face, an unreadable mask now. Draco was good at that. Going from emotional and open, to closed off in the blink of an eye. The wind picked up and suddenly Draco’s scent filled Harry’s lungs—mint and something so indescribably  _ Draco _ .

“It’s fine, Harry,” Draco said, breaking eye contact. “It happened. You needed me to be faster, more sure of us, and I couldn’t do that. She could.” His jaw clenched twice and then he sighed out a breath. 

“But I should have given you time, and I didn’t,” Harry told him. The words he’d fought so hard against the last year flowing out of him as easy as breathing. “I was just so scared of things changing that I sort of went crazy trying to make sure they stayed the same. By doing so, I broke everything.”

“Why are you saying this now?” Draco asked. He stepped back to lean on the brick wall of the restaurant. “It’s been over a year. We were past it, weren’t we?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry said, thinking of Draco’s anger on stag night. “At least, I wasn’t. I’m not, Draco. And after stag night, I don’t think you are either.”

“I thought I was,” Draco said more to himself than to Harry. He chewed his bottom lip in concentration. “I had to be. It hurt too much not to be over it. But even still...”

“It needed to be said, and you know me,” Harry laughed to himself, “I am a bit slow on the uptake when it comes to this stuff. Irony of all ironies. I tried to rush you into a choice and it took me a year to get up the nerve to apologize to you for needing time and for sleeping with Ginny that night because I felt vulnerable and hurt. It was so fucked up and completely inexcusable.”

This time Draco laughed, too, though his laugh was quiet and restrained. His shoulders shook, and Harry could see the exhaustion in his eyes. “You certainly have your own way of dealing with things, Potter. I’ll give you that.”

“The infamous Potter way,” Harry told him. “Jump head first and then deal with the fallout. Or push the fallout so far out of my mind that I can ignore it. It may need some adjustments seeing as it keeps blowing up in my face. Works well in a war, not so well in a relationship.”

Draco smiled at him. “No, not really.”

“You were always better at that stuff,” Harry admitted. 

“Not really,” Draco countered, he laughed again but this one sounded bitter. “If you were moving too fast, then I was moving too slow. I let fear keep me from jumping with you. I kept telling myself I needed to have everything settled, figured out, before we could really be together. And it was selfish of me to call you that night, make you comfort me.”

“You were right to worry about those things. I dismissed them, and that was the opposite of helpful. I pushed you too hard.” Harry chewed his bottom lip. “And you didn’t make me comfort you. I needed you as much as you needed me. That was one of the worst birthdays of my life, and trust me, I’ve had my share of bad birthdays. I had fun watching the movie with you, and it was the first night I’d slept without waking up every hour in weeks.”

“Me too. I woke up feeling happy, and then I came to find you and saw Ginny and…” Draco shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter now. I was scared, Harry. I thought there was no way you could really love me, outside of Hogwarts, outside of the little bubble we were in. I worried that once people knew, you’d come to your senses, so I told you I couldn’t commit. I was trying to keep myself from getting hurt.”

“That wouldn’t have happened,” Harry said, hotly. “Never.”

“I know that...now, but back then I was scared,” Draco said. “I guess, I owe you an apology, too.”

“No, you don’t,” Harry said, tempering his anger. “I broke us. I’ll never forgive myself for the way I hurt you, or Ginny for that matter. I’ve been selfish and stupid. I’m so sorry, Draco.” He swallowed. He reached forward, taking one of Draco’s hands in his. “I am so sorry.”

“Harry, I’m so—” Draco started to say, but Harry shook his head.

“No more apologies from you,” Harry said. Draco’s hand was cold in his, but it felt so right to hold it. Harry felt the tangle of emotions in his chest begin to unwind. “Can we talk more? I have so much more to say to you.”

“I think…” Draco started, but when there was a noise down the alleyway, he turned to look at it. 

Beside them the side door to the restaurant opened, and an employee came out, lighting a cigarette. They nodded at Harry and Draco, then headed further down the alley to sit on a curb. The distraction was all Draco needed to huff out a sudden excuse about it being too cold and that they should go inside, so Harry obliged him. He’d said what he wanted to, at least some of what he wanted to say. It would have to do for now.


	20. Then

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The infamous second kiss ;)

The sight of Draco Malfoy eating a muffin, slowly, piece by piece, while he ignored Harry and discussed the best hangover meal with Ron was enough to bring back the pounding headache the hangover potion had only just eased. The pair had settled on a bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, but were divided on whether the bacon should be crispy or fatty. The whole conversation was pure torture.

Or at least, Harry decided it was just as bad as getting sucker punched. How could Draco just sit there, eating his muffin, after the kiss they shared last night? Harry hadn’t even been able to sleep for more than an hour thanks to his mind furiously replaying the kiss, over and over, until he relented and had to relieve himself.

And now he had to sit here enduring the torture of Draco’s perfect pink lips, drinking his orange juice and pretending he didn’t want to jump Draco’s bones and kiss him until he couldn’t see straight. 

“There are many reasons to enjoy fatty bacon, like the savory taste,” Draco insisted. “But I think the chewy quality would make the sandwich too hard to eat without a mess and I don’t know about you, but I am not able to handle a mess when I am hungover. I’d prefer a sturdier sandwich.”

“Okay, okay,” Ron said, holding a hand up, “but hear me out. Crispy bacon, while sturdy…”

Ron didn’t get to finish his argument because Harry, tired of the torture, snapped up out of his seat, practically knocking his orange juice over. “Draco. A word?”

The suddenness of Harry’s speech seemed to catch everyone off guard. The people nearest them all stopped whatever it was they were doing and watched Harry curiously. Draco recovered the quickest, and quirked an eyebrow at him. “Right now?”

Harry cleared his throat, avoided looking at the rest of the table, and said, “It can’t wait.”

Draco nodded and got up to follow Harry out of the Great Hall. 

__

They found an empty classroom on the second floor that looked like it hadn’t been used at all that semester. Longer, if they musky smell was any indication. The desks and other furniture were covered with white cloth sheets. Harry shut the door and cast a locking charm on it before turning to face Draco. 

Harry tightened his jaw and looked around the room. Now that he had Draco alone, he didn’t know what to say, so he paced back and forth while he calmed his nerves. Draco stood patiently while Harry moved about like a tiger in a cage, peering at Harry through narrowed eyes. 

Draco wore a bright green cable knit sweater that looked a little oversized on him. The cuffs of the sleeves were rolled up, and his hair was unstyled and fell in his face. He looked both casual and glamorous in a sweater too big for him—on Harry it would have looked like he was wearing hand-me-downs, but Draco had a way of making everything look intentional. His mouth was pursed into a line as he waited.

“We said tomorrow,” Harry finally said. “And it is tomorrow. Well, I mean today is tomorrow from yesterday.”

“Technically,” Draco said, drawing out the word. “We agreed on tomorrow after midnight, so tomorrow would be, well, tomorrow.”

That stopped Harry pacing. “Well, fuck,” he said, his voice hoarse from the building lust that hadn’t wained once since their kiss. Harry shook his head and headed toward the door and leaned against it. “I can’t wait that long.”

“You’re the most impatient person I have ever met,” Draco told him. 

Harry sagged a little, slouching down on the door. “I, argh, when I see something I want...I just,  _ fuck _ ,” Harry growled, and then saw the beginning of a smile on Draco’s lips, so he gave him his best puppy-eyes, “Draco, will you really make me wait another day?”

“Merlin, Harry, really?” Draco asked, there was a hint of tired amusement in his tone, but he stepped closer to Harry and pulled him into a kiss. 

Harry felt his cheeks burn bright red at being caught off guard like that, but he melted into the kiss like it was the only thing keeping him alive. The sensation was overwhelming, and he realized this kiss was better than the night before because he knew what Draco tasted like and savored it. The feeling of Draco’s lips, the sensation of his tongue as it flicked out to caress his lip were all expected and the anticipation only made his arousal build. It felt like a flood hitting the wall of a dam. He knew if Draco kept kissing him like this, the dam would break.

They didn’t kiss for nearly half as long as they had the first time. Eventually, Draco dragged his teeth along Harry’s bottom lip and they pulled apart. Harry was flushed and let out a breathless laugh, his heart pounding in his chest. 

“There, satisfied?” Draco asked, his voice husky. He leveled a sultry, almost too-intense gaze at Harry and reached up to brush his lips with his fingertips. He tried to play cool, but Harry could see the kiss affected him just as much.

“No,” Harry said, tilting his head to the side. Draco’s sultry temptress gaze turned confused as he waited for Harry to elaborate. Harry inhaled through his nose, deliberately trying to control his breathing, and a few other things. “I don’t think I will ever be satisfied with just kissing you. I want more.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “You’re serious?”

Harry decided to take a risk, and took Draco’s hand in his and brought it to rest on his chest. Draco shuddered, but didn’t pull back, so Harry decided to dive head first into that risky choice and proceeded to drag Draco’s hand down his torso until it came to rest on the evidence of his dissatisfaction. “Does that feel serious enough to you?”

Another shudder ripped through Draco, his lips parting slightly. His pupils were blown as he stared at Harry. He swayed a little on his feet. “Uh, ye-yes.”

“I want you so fucking bad right now,” Harry said, confidence that Draco wanted him just as badly surging through him. 

Draco’s brow furrowed, and he stammered, “Uh, well, I suppose last night wasn’t a drunken fluke aft-after all.” He still had his hand on Harry’s groin. 

Harry blinked a few times and raised one hand to touch Draco’s lips. He parted them to give Harry more access. “Doesn’t seem that way, does it?” Harry slid his index finger over Draco’s quivering bottom lip. 

Draco’s gaze moved from Harry’s. A furious hunger flashed in his eyes and his free hand closed in a fist on the front of Harry’s shirt. He crashed into him, pulling him into another dizzying kiss. Harry could smell Draco’s soap, a clean scent that made his knees wobble. Or maybe that was from Draco’s hand which no longer stood still. He was rubbing it along Harry’s length, gently caressing him. 

There was a flash of something rational in Harry’s mind that said they should absolutely go somewhere private and see where this went, but then Draco pushed himself into Harry, removing his hand from Harry’s now throbbing arousal, and slid it up to cup Harry’s face. Their body’s were flush as Draco sped up the kiss. It was smooth, delicious, and Harry couldn't think about rational things like finding somewhere more private anymore. Not with Draco’s hot mouth on his, devouring him.

Their kiss was the kind of kiss that neither person can stop without great effort. The kind that elicits heavy breathing, panting, and all kinds of noises. Harry had no intention of relenting, so he pushed off the wall, spinning so Draco was pinned and started to unfasten Draco’s trousers.

Draco grunted when Harry spun him, but didn’t protest, so Harry kept at it, his fingers fumbled as his body shook, but he managed to get Draco’s trousers undone. Harry tore his lips from Draco’s mouth, feeling swollen and out of breath. 

Harry licked his lips and tried to go to his knees, but Draco caught him and said, “I think we should stop.”

That was not what Harry expected, nor what he wanted. Stopping was the furthest thing from his mind. “Wh-why?”

“I can’t think when you’re doing that,” Draco said. He licked his lips, took two steadying breaths. “And I  _ think _ that maybe we should discuss some things first.”

“Thinking is so overrated,” Harry told him before leaning in to kiss the pulse point on Draco’s neck. He shivered as Harry kissed down his neck, moving the collar of his sweater away to access more of the soft skin. “I say we never think again.”

Draco let out a breathless laugh that vibrated along Harry’s lips and he kissed a line up Draco’s neck, nibbling and licking, making his way back to capture Draco’s lips in another kiss. This time, Draco didn’t stop Harry as he moved from his lips to litter kisses down the line of his jaw, the slope of his neck. He didn’t protest when Harry slid his hands under the hem of his sweater, running his palms along the smooth skin of his abdomen before they resumed their earlier mission: getting Draco’s trousers off. 

Harry wanted him, wanted to touch him. It felt better than anything he’d ever done, touching Draco like that, so unbelievably good. He mumbled something that sounded like “So good” and put his hand around Draco’s warm arousal. 

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Draco moaned, sucking in a deep breath. 

Harry’s hand stayed motionless, his fingers wrapped around Draco’s length, letting the moment wash over him. “Not worried about thinking anymore are you?” He didn’t wait for Draco to answer, instead he began slow movements that elicited more moans from Draco. 

His hands slid under Harry’s shirt, gripping his hips. Draco moaned out, “Merlin, that feels  _ good _ .” His pupils were so blown that there was barely any smoke-gray left as he stared at Harry, capturing him in an intense gaze. It took the breath out of Harry, locking eyes with Draco as he brought him to the edge of pleasure. 

Harry felt Draco’s hands release his hips, tracing up his spine and dragging his shirt up in the process. He slipped the shirt up, tugging at it so Harry would release Draco long enough for him to pull the shirt over his head. Harry complied, letting a little sound of surprise escape his lips at the cool air on his bare skin. 

Draco stared at Harry’s chest and said, “Get on the floor. I think that I am done thinking for today.” Harry didn’t argue, kneeling down. Draco matched him, moving slowly until they were both on their knees, facing one another. Draco pushed a hand on Harry’s chest, leaning into him as he pushed Harry to lie on his back. “You’re never boring, Potter. I’ll give you that much.”

Harry laughed, but it was cut off abruptly when he watched Draco strip off his sweater, and then pull down his pants. When he was finished with that, he began working to pull Harry’s trousers down enough that he was similarly exposed. Draco straddled him, leaning down to capture him in another kiss. 

The feel of Draco’s naked flesh against his sent a pulse of pure hunger through Harry that resulted in him shivering. He brought his hands to rest on Draco’s hips, lightly trailing his fingers along the curve of his arse. That seemed to encourage Draco to begin slowly grinding against him. Their bodies burned as they moved together, their breathing growing labored, their kisses growing more fevered. 

Harry’s fingers dug into the skin of Draco’s hips as he braced himself. That only served to speed Draco up to the point that kissing wasn’t an option. Both their breaths too ragged, their body’s shaking with too much pleasure. Draco’s head fell to rest in the crook of Harry’s neck, his breath hot on Harry’s skin as they rubbed against each other, rutting uncontrollably. The slick, warm evidence of their lust sliding against their skin. The resulting shudder ripped through Harry as he breathed into Draco’s neck, feeling a tingle like pins and needles along his skin. 

A moment later, Draco went limp, the weight of his body on Harry's was a comfort as they both worked to steady their breathing. Harry opened his eyes, looking up at the high ceiling of the empty classroom and couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his face. 

Shaking, Draco lifted himself enough to look down at Harry’s face. “Well, that was sure…something.” He kissed Harry lightly, just a quick brush of lips, but even that made Harry’s heart speed up. “.”

Harry shook his head, laughing. “Something, indeed.” 


	21. Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Luna and Neville’s wedding, guys! Get ready for emotions.

“So, what will you do?” Neville asked. “Seriously, Harry. I need your answer right now.”

Harry blinked at Neville, unsure. “I, uh, I mean...”

“Make a choice, Harry,” Neville said, his tone convening his loss of patience. “Will you let Stella sit in your coat pocket or not?”

Harry looked at the small Dryad, Stella, sitting in the palm of Neville’s hand. She looked much the same as she had in the tuxedo shop, only now she looked like a small tree in bloom. Her...limbs...had flowered with red and white blossoms to match the wedding colors. She smiled up at Harry expectantly. 

“Yes, of course,” he answered, offering his hand to Stella. She hopped from Neville to Harry with a little squeak of excitement. Harry lifted his hand closer to his chest, so she could wiggle her way into his pocket. “All snug?”

In answer, Stella scrunched herself down a little more in the pocket using his red pocket square as a shawl. Once she was settled, she looked up at him and nodded once.

“That’s my girl,” Neville said to Stella, leaning down to Harry’s chest. “Okay, I’m going to finish getting ready.” He huffed out a breath, then looked at himself in the mirror. “Oh my shit, I am getting married. Harry, I am going to be a married man in less than an hour.”

“Technically,” Dean said as he entered the small dressing room the church provided, which likely served as a storage closet for all the church vestments. He held four cups of coffee in a pulp tray. Seamus and Ron were on his tail. “You already filled out the paperwork, so really you’re already a married man.”

“You all look great,” Neville said, beaming and ignoring Dean’s comment. He grabbed the cup marked with an N and took a sip. He made sure to lean his body back, butt out, to keep from spilling on the front of his tuxedo shirt. “Now, if I could just calm down long enough to get this stupid tie on.”

Dean handed Seamus the tray and stepped up to Neville. “Here, let me…” Dean trailed off as he began helping Neville adjust the bow tie so it sat properly. Like all the other accents for the wedding, it was bright crimson red. The whole church, which was one of those quaint countryside churches with cobblestone walls around the property, proper wooden pews, and a vaulted ceiling, had been decorated to look almost eerily like it had frozen red crystals dangling from the ceiling. Roses were in bloom everywhere. White carpets lined the path to the main stage where Neville and Luna would say I do. 

“Hermione reported all is good on the bride’s side.” Ron took a cup from the tray and sipped. He offered the cup to Harry when he was done. “I know you said you didn’t want any, but just in case, I got mine black since you almost always change your mind.”

“You’re a better friend than I deserve,” Harry said, taking the cup. He sipped the warm coffee, letting it calm some of his nerves. He handed it back to Ron. “So bridesmaids are good, Stella is settled, and Neville’s tie is almost perfect.”

“It’s happening,” Seamus said, fake panic in his voice. “The absolute best of us is about to marry the woman of his dreams. Sound the alarm.” 

Neville rolled his eyes. He strained his neck up to give Dean more room to work. “I am not the best of us. Stop that nonsense.”

“Sorry, Nev, but if the bow tie fits,” Harry agreed. In his pocket, Steall made a noise that sounded like “see” and then the roses pinned to everyone’s jacket bloomed a bit bigger. 

“Stella’s put her two cents in, and that’s all the confirmation I need,” Dean said, straightening the bow tie. “There, perfect!”

__

The church was silent. Harry stood up with Neville, standing to his right, then Ron, Dean, and Seamus lined up beside them. The church was full of smiling faces, all excited to watch these two amazing people commit to one another forever. 

The officiant, a tall man whose face showed all the signs of aging, but moved with a liquidity that Harry would have assigned to a younger man, said in a booming voice, “It’s time.” 

At his words, the music started up. It was a soft piano song, almost like a lullaby, and the doors of the church opened to reveal Luna’s red-haired friend, Illyana in a simple red silk dress that went to the floor. She carried a bouquet of white roses and walked down the aisle like she’d been born to do it. 

“Sweet Merlin,” Seamus whispered. “I can’t believe she agreed to go on a date with me.”

“Me either,” Dean said, chuckling under his breath. 

“Shush, the both of you,” Ron whispered.

Next in was Ginny. Harry’s heart leapt into his mouth. She looked happy. Her smile was big and genuine, and only accented how beautiful she was. She wore a similar red silk dress, but hers had a different hemline. Instead of hitting the floor, it was cut short in front and billowed into a short train in the back. 

Harry ignored the intake of breath that came from Dean when he saw Ginny. It wasn’t jealousy that made him want to ignore it, but guilt. Here was a man who would have worshiped Ginny, made her a priority, and Harry had taken her from him simply because he was hurting. He didn’t like thinking about that. 

Hermione entered, her wild curls were free around her face. Her dress was also red, but it was flowing and moved as she walked. She beamed up at Ron, winked, and Harry caught her mouthing, “You’re next.”

Ron laughed out loud, drawing a few stares from the guests nearest them. He didn’t seem to notice. Harry turned to look at his friend, and caught Ron nodding and whispering, “Good.”

Harry took a deep breath, bracing himself for Draco’s entrance, and started to feel his body shake. As graceful as someone walking on air, Draco entered the church and Harry’s heart stopped. He wore a red tuxedo that fit him like a second skin. His shirt was bright crimson, too, and he carried a bouquet of white roses. Draco’s eyes found Harry and gave him an amused look. He raised his eyebrows, then turned his attention back to the front of the room and his spot on the other side of the stage where he would stand. 

Neville laughed out loud when Luna walked in, and a few tears slid down his cheek. She wore a brilliant white dress, accented with crimson. It was lace and flowing and Harry had a moment where he wondered how in the hell Luna managed to walk in that and not trip. Her hair was done in a long, winding braid that fell over her shoulder. She smiled at Neville and didn’t take her eyes off him the whole walk to the front.

Harry patted him on the back. “That’s your wife.”

“I know,” he said, practically melting into a puddle of mush.

Once everyone was in position, the officiant said, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of two special people. Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood.” 

The pair of them were facing each other, grasping hands. Harry couldn’t see Neville’s face, but he watched Luna and she was tearing up as she smiled at Neville. If Harry had to guess, he’d say Neville was tearing up, too.

There was a cheer from the crowd, which the officiant hadn’t been expecting if the look on his face were any indication. He smiled and clapped his hands together, then resumed speaking. “On behalf of Luna and Neville, I would like to thank you all for being here this afternoon. For taking the time and making the journey, and for all the effort that it takes—not only to be a part of this day, but to be a part of each other’s lives. Luna and Neville have invited you here to this beautiful place to show you a glimpse of an important piece of their love.” 

Neville laughed quietly, his body shaking as he did, and whispered, “I love you.”

Luna smiled. “I love you, too. Now shush and let him get on with it.”

The guests laughed at the tender moment. Harry felt his heart swell, and his eyes found Draco’s without meaning to. They locked eyes and almost everything faded away around Harry until all he noticed were the officiant's words and Draco’s smoke-gray eyes on his. 

“Throughout time, countless millions of people from many cultures, religions, and societies have gathered among friends and families to celebrate their love for one and other and their commitment to each other. Today we should try to remember that a wedding is a symbol, a heartfelt and meaningful symbol, but a symbol nonetheless,” the officiant paused, letting his words sink in.

Stella wiggled in Harry’s pocket, and he could hear some sniffling coming from her. Automatically, he lifted a hand to his chest pocket and offered a finger for Stella to hold. She placed her hand on his finger and squeaked out a thank you.

“This ceremony is not magic, it will not create a relationship that does not already exist and has not already been celebrated in all the commitments Luna and Neville have made to each other, both large and small, in the days since they first met,” the officiant said, his voice full of hope and tenderness. 

The rest of his speech sounded like white noise to Harry as he kept his eyes on Draco, who did not break their gaze. He just smiled at Harry. Everything, every moment they’d shared, seemed to pass through Harry’s mind in the breaths between the officiant beginning and the point when he called for Neville to kiss the bride.

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife,” the officiant said. “You may kiss the bride!” 

Neville and Luna crashed together, almost desperately, and kissed as the guests cheered and tossed up rose petals that fell around Neville and Luna like rain. 

__

Harry sat in the small courtyard between the church and the reception hall watching the wedding guests filter by, clutching their coats and scarves to them to keep warm. The wind had picked up, and the clouds were an ominous gray that threatened snow. Some huddled together for the quick walk, others simply took off at a jog. 

The cold should have bothered Harry, but he found himself not caring. He had on a heavy wool coat and wore his old Gryffindor scarf. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he leaned back on the bench to look up at the sky. Behind him was a towering tree with bare branches that Harry caught glimpses of as he hung his head back. 

There was a sudden movement in his chest pocket and panicked, Harry remembered Stella. “You okay?” Harry asked breathlessly as he peeled his coat back to look at her. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”

Stella squeaked out a yes and snuggled down harder into the pocket. Harry had been worried he’d suffocated her, but she was fine. He shook his head. The little Dryad was kind of cute. He could see why Neville loved her so much. Knowing Stella was okay, Harry adjusted his coat and scarf to keep the cold from sneaking inside and reaching her. 

Harry felt someone walking up to him, but kept his head back. Maybe they would think he was asleep and leave him alone. He really didn’t have it in him to have polite conversation about how beautiful the wedding was with anyone.

“That was quite the show of love, wasn’t it?” Draco’s voice hit him like a bludger to the gut. He’d expected Draco to ignore him after the eye contact during the wedding. Yet there he was, making polite conversation about how beautiful the wedding had been.

Harry tilted his head enough to see Draco standing there, looking ethereal in his long gray coat. It had a white fur lapel that made him look regal and very, very warm. His smoke-gray eyes were intense as they watched Harry. For a long moment, Harry didn’t know what to say, then he sat all the way up. “It was...everything a wedding should be.”

Draco nodded in agreement and then pointed to the spot on the bench next to Harry. “Can I sit with you a moment?”

“Of course,” Harry said, doing his best not to think about taking Draco’s face in his hands, or his lips on Draco’s. “What’s up?”

“I needed some air,” Draco said. “The cold air helps me think.” He grinned, and it made him look younger, untouched by pain. “I mean...it’s just been one hell of a month, you know? Between the wedding and the trial, I feel like I haven’t had a moment to properly think about anything.”

“Thinking is overrated anyway,” Harry said. And looking directly at Draco, keeping his gaze steady, whispered. “I’ve been thinking non-stop all month and it hasn’t gotten me anywhere except into more thinking.”

Draco smiled, this one held some of the pain that the other hadn’t. “Really? Seems to me maybe you’re doing it wrong then.” He followed that with a sly smirk. 

“Maybe you should tutor me then,” Harry responded, returning the smirk with one of his own. “I seem to do better with a tutor anyway, if you’ll recall.”

“I heard about you and Ginny. I assume that was what you tried to tell me after the stag night,” Draco said abruptly, shifting the conversation. The smile on his face faded away as if it had never been there. “What happened? If I can ask.”

“Well,” Harry said. “Do you want the whole entire truth or the polite conversation answer that skips over the messy parts and ends with ‘but we are still friends’?”

Draco gave a reluctant laugh. “Uh, the truth please.”

“Are you sure? Can you handle it?” Harry teased. “It’s messy and complicated and I will certainly sound like I’m whining.”

“I’ve listened to you whine before and survived it, Potter.” Harry could hear the smile in Draco’s voice. “I think I can handle a bit more.”

“I warned you,” Harry said. 

“And you Gryffindor’s call me a drama queen?” Another laugh escaped him, this time there was less apprehension. “Get on with it.”

Harry grinned at Draco and said, “Well, once upon a time, there was a dumbarse named Harry Potter who was as stubborn as a rock and about as smart, too.”

Draco suddenly laughed. “See, dramatic.” He tilted his head to the side and ushered Harry on with a wave of the hand.

“Like I was saying before someone rudely interrupted me,” Harry said, eying Draco playfully. “This dumb as rocks Harry Potter guy screwed up the best thing he ever had going for him because he was too stubborn and narrow minded to let things happen slowly, so when things didn’t happen the way he wanted them to...he broke them.”

“So you’re telling me this Harry Potter fellow,” Draco said, playing along, “you’re telling me he made a mistake? And how does that lead to a break-up with Ginny?”

“More than that. He...I made many mistakes, that was just the first one. The next series of mistakes ended with me clinging to something instead of handling and facing my first mistake like I should have and hurting everyone who cared about me in the process.”

“Wh-what are you saying?”

“Ginny and I, the whole last year, have been miserable together. I only just noticed because...I wasn’t paying attention. Like I said, dumb as a rock. But Ginny was, and she was hurting. She loved me, and so she took me back after I hurt her, she took me back knowing she was second to...” Harry paused, swallowing all his nerves as best he could. “Well, to  _ you _ . She told me she hoped she could live with it, but after she read the letter I wrote...” Harry trailed off, letting Draco put the pieces together.

Draco glanced at Harry and then away. “The letter.” He took a deep breath and looked at Harry again. “She read it? And that’s why you broke up?”

“Before the trial, yes, but that isn’t why we broke up.”

“I’m sorry that I asked you to write it.” Draco looked down at his hands. “I didn’t mean to...I didn’t know that it would...be like that. The letter. There was so much in there, Harry. It felt like someone was reading a private love letter to me in open court.”

Harry let out a nervous laugh. “It’s all stuff I’ve felt since that first night when you made me pretend to be your date, since that first kiss. I don’t regret writing the letter.”

“Even though you and Ginny are over?”

“You are skipping over one important thing.” Harry told him. “Ginny and I would have broken up sooner or later because neither of us was happy. The letter might have forced us to talk about it, but it didn’t cause it.”

Draco leaned forward. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Harry leaned closer, keeping only a few inches between their faces. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot, remember?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “I thought you said thinking was overrated?”

“I’m rethinking that, considering it led me to some very important conclusions. Not the least of which being that I cannot live without you anymore. I want to make good on all those promises. I want to make you breakfast in the morning, take care of you like I said I would. And I am way better at making coffee now. I have a French press and everything,” Harry answered and took one hand out of his pocket, lifted it to rest on Draco’s cold cheek. His heart pounded furiously and the feeling of his hand on Draco did all sorts of  _ things _ to his body, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of Draco leaning into the touch and closing his eyes.

“You really are something else,” Draco said, his eyes snapping open, giving Harry a wide-eyed look.

Harry watched him carefully. “Some people say it’s endearing.”

Draco blinked a few times, letting out a breath that was warm on Harry’s skin. “Those people have obviously lost their minds.” He lifted his face out of Harry’s hand, and moved to lean his forehead on Harry’s. He was breathing harder as he closed the rest of the space between their lips. “I’m obviously losing my mind right now.”

“You seem perfectly sane to me,” Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco let out a soft breath in response. “You’re sure you are...you’re sure you mean all of this?” Draco asked, his tone bordering on frantic. “I can’t handle losing you again, Harry. I barely made it last time.”

“Yes. I’m sure,” he said and leaned forward.

The kiss began slowly, cautious—passionate, but unsure,  _ unsteady _ . Draco’s lips were cold against Harry’s, but that only lasted so long until their mouths were warm from one another’s soft breaths. The movements, the feel of Draco’s lips on his were all so familiar that it felt like coming home after a long trip. It felt good, better than any kiss had a right to feel. Draco didn’t devour him, instead slowly exploring Harry’s mouth like it was their first kiss, like they’d only just begun. There was no primal need, no over the top passion. It was the kind of kiss made for soft, sunlit mornings in a kitchen while the eggs are burning. 

Without warning, Draco pulled back from the kiss, his breathing suddenly speeding up. He swallowed once, then looked around the courtyard. There was no one but them. Everyone else had made it inside while they talked. 

“Harry,” Draco said, touching his fingers to his lips. “I don’t know what to say, uh, or…”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to say anything,” Harry told him. “I’m not going anywhere this time. I want to be with you Draco. I have ever since I promised you I could do casual and was so obviously lying.” Draco laughed a bit at that, but didn’t say anything, so Harry finished. “You’re it for me, always have been. I’m sorry I broke us, but I want to fix it. I want to love you the rest of my life.”

As Harry spoke, they heard a noise coming from the tree behind them. Nearly everyone would take one look at Stella and expect her to have small power to accompany her small size, but those people would be sorely underestimating the little Dryad. The tree had gone from a barren, winter-torn tree into a tree in full bloom. The pink leaves blossomed, revealing a Magnolia as if in mid-spring. Some petals fell, lightly twirling in the cold wind like snowflakes.

Draco gasped. “Wh-what did that? Was it you?”

“Stella,” he said, nodding down at his coat where Stella had clearly overheard the whole conversation. “Seems she approves.”

“Seems like it,” he let out a breathless laugh that turned into a fit of laughter, so beautiful that Harry couldn’t bring himself to do anything but watch. After a moment, Draco composed himself. He looked seriously at Harry and said, “Slow. I need to move slowly, Harry.”

“I’m good with that. Great with it, in fact.” He smiled. “I want you. I love you. You tell me when, where, all of it. I’ll follow where you lead.”

Draco smirked. “That’s a lot of power to give one person, Potter.”

“I trust you, Draco, and I will do everything I can to help you trust me again.”

In answer, Draco captured Harry in another kiss. This one wasn’t the slow, unsure kiss from before. This was a kiss of  _ need _ . There was nothing but Draco’s lips that mattered, the rest washed away as Harry let him control the kiss. 

Harry took a hand and grabbed Draco’s, twining their fingers together. Draco deepened the kiss, placing his other hand behind Harry’s neck and tilting his head to deepen the kiss and pull them closer together. 

Draco let out a quiet moan, but he didn’t move, didn’t try to tear Harry’s clothes off, or apparate them away somewhere more private. No, he just kept kissing Harry, steady, passionate, full of excitement. Draco brushed his tongue lightly over Harry’s lips, slowly...achingly slow. It made Harry shiver, Draco met that with a little nibble of his bottom lip and slowly drew the kiss to a close. He leaned his head against Harry’s forehead again, and they stayed that way, under the Magnolia tree, breathing fast, until they were too cold to stand it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed this story!! Lots of it came out of my own stupid ass experiences being a dumb ass (like Harry). Comments and kudos are sooooo greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading. :D


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